Saudade
by Anonymouslee
Summary: Marshall Lee never expected to take in seven-year-old Marceline, but he does. Years later they're perfect roommates, but what do you do when you fall for someone who shouldn't be in your world? Someone who's you? Then again Marshall Lee does what he wants. MarceLee all the way. (T for Part I, M after)
1. Prologue: Sweater Weather

**Prologue: Sweater Weather  
**

"When did you know?"

He's sitting on a rock, watching her kick back waves on the shore. It's a cloudy day, just how she likes it. Marshall Lee suspects that's because he has no excuse to stop her from dragging him outdoors.

He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

"Know what?"

Marshall Lee smirks because of all the things she's up for exploring lately, the one thing she avoids is the l-word. Marceline smirks back.

"I was fourteen and you were making waffles."

Marshall Lee frowns. "That's it?"

Marceline kicks ocean water at him. "Oh yeah. You wore that apron with the sick frills."

"The pockets are great. For spices," Marshall Lee can't believe he's defending something so obviously un-hetero.

"You were teaching me how to beat box," Marceline continues. "With one cheek, so I could chew waffles with the other."

"That's it?" Marshall Lee restates. "No foot-popping? No sexy fantasy?" Admittedly, she _is_ pretty impressive at mouth theatrics. Perhaps that's why she's a natural at other things.

"That's it." Marceline is enjoying his crestfallen expression. "Your turn."

Marshall Lee knows the exact moment when. But he slaps his fingertips together, elbows on knees, anyway. "I was 1,000 and you were seven, when you drifted into my life—"

"Lech."

"Real talk, babe," Marshall Lee protests. "Something funky stopped me from eating you that day." Marceline walks towards him, wind blowing her hair back. She's wearing a cardigan and her jeans are rolled up at the ankles, and small waves crash against her slim feet. It's an indie film scene when Marshall Lee looks at the girl and the seascape before him. "I knew we were roomies for life when you kept eating my apple stash."

"Before or after the daycare blew up?" Marceline stands before him now, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Heh. So you knew," Marshall Lee rubs his hair.

"Like you weren't gonna come back," she sticks out her tongue.

"Hey," He holds his palms inches apart. "I was _this_ close."

"Whatever."

"Good thing I did. Otherwise I'd never realize we were otp at the karaoke party."

It's Marceline's turn to look disappointed.

"Last month? You started noticing me _last month_?" He holds out his hands and she takes them with hers. Marshall Lee won't just yet tell her that whatever it is between them, he's been missing it a long, long time.

"Would it be so bad?" He looks at her hands, a trifle smaller than his yet perfectly alike. "If I were a dirty old man with a thing for a kid?"

"I wouldn't mind," she draws herself closer, between his bent knees. "It's you." Marshall Lee looks up at her now. Her heartbeat pulses steadily through his hands.

"What if we were twins? _Clones_?" he continues.

"Mirror images? Carbon copies?" Marceline stares back. Her mouth curls at one side. "Well, thank Glob we're _us_, right?"

Marshall Lee believes in whatever fate, blessing, accident, or fluke in the space-time continuum that brought Marceline to him.

"I don't care what we're supposed to be, Marsh," Marceline rests her forehead against his, eyes closed. "As long as there's us."

"I don't love you because you're me with boobs, you know," Marshall Lee inhales the scent of her skin. Strawberry. He thinks nothing of saying _that_ word; it feels right. _I love you because you're fucking incredible_.

"I fucking know," she's smiling, he can feel it. Just like she has that uncanny knack for knowing what he doesn't say.

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N:** I rearranged chapters! 'Cause I can. And because this one makes a good prologue.

Let me convince you why MarceLee is that one otp that won't happen but should :]

**Disclaimer:** Adventure Time is Pen Ward's baby.


	2. Part I: Driftwood

**Driftwood**

* * *

Nine years ago...

* * *

Marshall Lee flies across the shore.

As wantonly as he felt like going on a pilgrimage last week, so did he decide to return in early morning today. There was only so far you could travel to in Aaa, really. Marshall Lee pulls on his rucksack. His next fanciful trip might be to the Night-O-Sphere, just to see how long he can loiter undetected. Perhaps he'll even troll mother about succeeding her. But one kingship is enough; being Vampire King almighty is dreariness itself. Now, Marshall Lee makes his way back to the latest place he calls home. He doesn't count the hours til sunrise – he's got plenty spare.

But then below, a piece of driftwood on the shore catches his eye. On it he sees

"_Hambo?_"

Marshall Lee swoops down. It _is_ a worn teddy bear, lying among rags on a raft. It can't be. His old bear is gone forever, dissolved in some witch's Glob-forsaken brew. But this is a Hambo, alright. Marshall Lee reaches out for the bear…

And finds a tiny fist holding on to the other end. He blinks. He sniffs. What he'd dismissed as a pile of rags is a small human child.

But humans are extinct.

What a sad time to have started being vegetarian.

"Wassup?" Marshall Lee pokes at the head of short black hair. "You dead?" Poke-poke. Well, at least it won't feel the cold and the waves anymore. Briefly, he's reminded of how feeble mortality is.

_Whatever. I'm out._

But Marshall Lee has enough decency to keep the shoreline clean. He starts to push the raft back to sea with his foot, when the child growls and holds on to the teddy bear with unnatural strength.

"Feisty, aren't ya?" Marshall Lee peers at the sleeping face. He makes sure to stay flying high enough to keep dry.

He stares. And stares. _Interesting._

"Where did you come from?" Marshall Lee wonders aloud. Sometimes, strange things did indeed wash up on the shore – things from millennia gone past. He's picked up drumsticks and phonographs and all sorts of human junk. But a ragamuffin child is a novelty, especially one that looks like... Marshall Lee relents, and steps into ocean water. It soaks his sneakers and the tips of his jeans. He likes these jeans, but right now he feels like saving a life. He lifts the child, Hambo and all, into his arms. She's warm and smells of salt water and wood.

"You can thank me with that bear," he says and expects no reply. Water soaks into his favorite plaid shirt, and Marshall Lee wonders just what the hell he's doing. He's no hero.

"Something I feel like," he says again to thin air. He lets the breeze lift him up again, taking child and Hambo with him…

* * *

**A/N**: There is not enough gender bent AT or MarceLee to go around - here's one more.

Part I is more about MarceLee bonding. Can't rush the romance when she's seven amirite

**Disclaimer**: Adventure Time is not mine.


	3. Part I: Be OK

**Be OK**

Marshall Lee drops the photo album to the floor.

It joins the pile of others he's already flipped through. The albums are all stuffed with photographs – all from sporadic Polaroid phases and early childhood. Marshall Lee reaches for the last album, thumbs over the first few decades of his vampire life, and retraces time to pre-Apocalyptic years.

"Bingo."

He holds up the picture and lets the album fall. So he _did_ have that bowl cut at age seven. Marshall Lee does not go through his (poorly) documented life often; too much reminiscing makes for decreased sentimental value. But now he looks at the photograph of himself and his parents. If he's ever been blissfully ignorant of being doomed for vampire-hood, then it is during this one brief period in life.

Marshall Lee turns around and nearly flies into a small body.

"Mothaf—" He hasn't felt this jolt of surprise in ages. "Whoa. Didn't see you there…" Marshall Lee the Vampire King, startled by a little girl.

She stares up at him, hugging Hambo.

_You're lucky you're seven. _Marshall Lee's fingers are itching to grab the toy.

"You okay?" He circles around her. No bruises, at least none visible when he dumped her into the bubble bath ten hours ago. She's small, thin as a bird; the small plaid shirt he dressed her in reaches her ankles. "So how'd you get on a raft, anyway?" Glob, she has a cowlick. Right where his would be, if his reflection appeared in a mirror. Marshall Lee pats the girl's bed hair down, to little effect. She's quiet. "C'mon, am I speaking in tongues here?"

"Mister," she has a slight lisp. "I'm hungry…"

Marshall Lee is a little disappointed that they won't need to communicate via charades after all. He's good at that.

"Me too," Marshall Lee grins and displays sharp teeth. "Think I'll eat ya?"

Her stomach roars louder than a 50-watt amp.

"Right, food. People eat food," He hasn't thought about eating to survive for a long time.

"So… do you like apples?"

Five minutes, tomato juice, and three apples at the dinner table later, Marshall Lee still doesn't know who this ragamuffin girl is.

"I'm Marshall Lee," he says casually. "What's your name?"

"I'm Marceline," says she. He thinks it suits her; there's some kind of vibe going on there.

"Where you from, Marceline?"

"Ooo."

Marshall Lee has never heard of it.

"Who?"

"Ooo."

Her voice is lyrical, even with a sound made by people with the trots.

"Welcome to Aaa." Marshall Lee is entertained by how she has to hold the glass with both small hands to drink. How easy it would be to break his fast and just eat a human for once. He nods to the teddy bear, which she'd put on its own chair. "You too…"

"He's Hambo," Marceline says. Marshall Lee stares at it. Maybe Hambo is a brand name.

"Where'd you get him?" He'd rather ask where her parents are, so he can ship her off at the nearest post office. Actually, he might even carry her back himself, just to see what this _Ooo_ is like.

"Simon gave him to me."

"Is that like, your dad or something?" She shakes her head. "Little girl, where your parents at?"

Marceline exhales, and for some reason the sigh makes Marshall Lee want to give her candy or whatever makes children happy these days.

"They're gone. Everyone's gone. It's just me and Simon."

"Did Simon put you and Hambo on the raft?" She nods. "That shi- is cray. _Why_?"

"He said I'd be safe here," Marceline chews on another apple. "Simon says the war isn't over yet, but he'll come get me when Ooo is better."

Marshall Lee whistles. "Still. What kinda dude sends a girl out on a raft alone…"

"I wathn't alone," her cheek is full, like a chipmunk. She's likely just as weak as one. "I had Hambo."

"Well, when is Simon coming for you?" Marshall Lee asks.

Marceline hasn't looked sad before, but she looks sad now.

"I dunno."

Marshall Lee senses waterworks coming and feels the impulse to peace out. He flies over to her side, though. He holds his hands up uselessly; crying females are his undoing. Marceline looks defiant, but he knows that she's simply making herself believe that placating nonsense adults say. "But he's gonna. He's really gonna."

"He will, kid," Marshall Lee pats her head lamely, but he thinks Simon will have to survive this war in Ooo-over-the-ocean first, and wars are hard. He knows himself.

The apple lies forgotten on her plate. He's hit a sentimental bull's-eye. Tears are shining and they're dripping down her small face and oh Glob he's not good with crying children or crying _anyone_, really.

"Don't cry don't cry don't cry," he requests, and she squeezes her eyes shut but the drops still free-fall and her mouth trembles. He hasn't felt this sorry for anything in years.

Pathetic.

"C'mere," Marceline doesn't move when he slides her off the chair and into his lap. Marshall Lee hands Hambo to her. "I guess if you got to..."

She takes the bear and burrows into his chest, and for the second time today Marshall Lee doesn't mind that his shirt is getting soaked with salt water and additional snot. He rocks the small body in his arms. Marshall Lee has been held as a child; it works wonders when your world has just had the shit bombed out of it. So he hums, over and over, with

"_Don't worry_

_About a thing_

_'Coz every little thing_

_is gonna be alright._"

He's not sure why he's throwing in a Caribbean accent for extra song-potency.

Eventually, Marceline cries herself to sleep.

Marshall Lee is old enough to know touch comforts women, but this is completely different. He floats off the tile floor (his ass hurts, but it can't be worse than whatever she's feeling) and flies up to his room, where he put her in the first place. The rest of the house is full of bachelor junk.

Marshall Lee tucks her under his covers. Maybe he sympathizes with Marceline so much because she reminds him of himself.

_But what do I do with you_? he scratches his head.

He throws one more glance behind him as he turns off the lights. He supposes he can think about it when he tosses around on the couch.

"You're lucky you're seven…"

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reviews! They motivate :]

**Disclaimer**: Adventure Time is Pen Ward's brainchild.


	4. Part I: Follow Me

**Follow Me**

Marshall Lee lives in a tree house.

It's a big house that some might call an eyesore, but of course no one tells _him_ that. He's proud of its obnoxious architecture. It's a product of a _Tree Houses for Dummies_ book he found, five years of casual hammering, and his ex-girlfriend's furnishing ambitions. He still thinks of Ashley sometimes, and of the burn marks on his front door when she blasted it as she left for good. It's late afternoon and Marshall Lee is up on the rooftop now, slapping away on his axe-bass. There is nothing like (his) music to forget about the rest of the world.

There's a familiar _whoosh_ beside him. Marshall Lee smells fire and Night-O-Sphere air.

"What's cookin'," he leisurely throws his head back. "Flamba?"

"Hey youself," the flambit says. "Ay, is that your mom's axe?"

"Affirmative," Marshall Lee rotates himself upright and displays the family heirloom-turned-guitar in question. "You like?"

Flamba guffaws. "You's a real card, Marshall Lee. Your mum is gonna _love_ dat. Oh! Speakin' of ya mom—"

Please Glob don't let someone have slain her and leave the Night-O-Sphere _his_ responsibility.

"Word is, she wants ta visit." Well. That's almost as bad and just as unlikely. "Check on her baby boy, ya know."

"Don't singe my wood!" Marshall Lee looks around for a frying pan or something else metal. "Why on Aaa does she think I want to see her? She gonna bring me fries?"

"It's yer big breakup, y'see," Flamba does him the favor of jumping on the weather vane. "Everyone's been talking about it." Probably seen it too. Ashley _did_ storm out shooting fireworks everywhere. "You ain't lookin' too bad, though."

"She might as well stay down there," Marshall Lee rolls his eyes.

"Ay, I'm just the messenger," Flamba wraps her tail around the vane and looks at him expectantly.

"I don't pull coal out my ass," Marshall Lee scratches his head. "I might have some on the fireplace though—"

"I'll be on my way," Flamba makes her way to the chimney, licking her lips. "Pleasure doin' business, Vampire King."

"Don't burn my house!" Marshall Lee calls out, then remembers something "Hey –"

The flambit pauses.

"Hypothetically, if I was giving out kids, who would I give them to?"

"Go on," Flamba lies down.

"I mean," Marshall Lee chooses his words carefully. "Is there like an orphanage in Aaa that a kid could stay in? Temporarily?"

"Marshall Lee, you gots a _baby_-mama?" Flamba gasps.

Marshall Lee snorts, just because him having children or being _fertile_, for that matter, were out of the question. Well, he thinks so—"Well?"

"Oh boy, I wonder what _this_ is about," Flamba grins, and Marshall Lee wonders if one day, curiosity will indeed kill the cat. "Anyhoo, Candy Kingdom's got dat great daycare, very friendly, very cheap."

"I'm not expecting, Flamba," Marshall Lee repeats. "But you'd be first to know."

"Goodie," Flamba gets on her paws again. "Done?"

"Help yourself," Marshall Lee shrugs and goes back to his bass. Flamba disappears down his chimney, leaving him with food for thought. Yeah, a daycare would be good for Marceline, and he's fairly sure he can talk the caretakers into letting her stay and wait for her Simon.

Marshall Lee's good deeds meter is running high these days.

"Marshall Lee?"

He feels that jolt. Right, he's not alone any more. Marshall Lee turns and sees Marceline pulling herself up on the ladder. Of course Hambo would be stuffed into her (borrowed) shirt pocket. "Impressive. Why're you up here?"

"Why are you wearing a lady hat?"

It _is_ the late afternoon, and he's wearing shades and a very wide-brimmed sunhat. Marshall Lee tells her so, a little indignantly. "Us vampires can't deal with the sun, you know. Bad for complexion."

Marceline cocks her head. Hey, he does that too.

"You're a vampire?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Why are you out here?"

"Because yo-lo."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. No one says that anymore."

Marceline sits beside him, and his hat is obnoxiously large enough that half her face is shaded too. The fact that Marshall Lee could eat her doesn't appear to bother her.

"How's my bed? Comfy, right?" Marshall Lee asks. She's staring at his axe bass and he turns the strings towards her. "Wanna try? I made it last week."

"I had a banjo," Marceline plucks with one finger while Marshall Lee holds down a chord. "I broke the strings."

"You jammed too hard," Marshall Lee says.

"What if you cut yourself?" Marceline motions to the axe body. It's shiny and sharp.

"I'd grow the limb back," Marshall Lee says matter-of-factly. "Wanna see?"

"That's okay," Marceline makes a face, and continues plucking. She's not bad. Maybe he'll teach her, visit the daycare once in a while. Marshall Lee also knows there's a good chance that he won't visit at all. But it's for the best; he's not a sitter, and she's not a goldfish he can just apologize to as he flushes her down the toilet, accidentally squished.

"This place is pretty," Marceline says. She's looking at the sunset and holding out Hambo to see it too. Marshall Lee supposes so. He's seen many a pretty view.

"We had a war too, y'know," he reassures her. "It takes a few centuries, but the wreckage fades." Marceline frowns. "Well – maybe just months. Ooo could speed it up."

"I hope so," Marceline says, and she goes back to the bass.

Marshall Lee supposes teaching her a few chords now couldn't hurt.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks again for reviews! Hope you keep reading.

**Disclaimer**: Adventure Time is not mine, womp.


	5. Part I: Tell Me Baby

**Tell Me Baby**

_He's seven, wandering among ruined skyscrapers._

_They're sad, sorry remains of a city brought low, but they still dwarf a small, skinny boy. There's no sound other than his feet loosing debris as he climbs rubble in what used to be streets. This place is deader than dead. He should be scared shitless, but that was one war and five earth-shattering explosions ago. Now he simply wanders, because after sitting in shock and grief and fear, there is nothing left to do in an irreversibly destroyed world._

_Someone approaches. He's handed a teddy bear, soft and only a little burnt. When you're in shock and another living soul gives you a comforting toy, you don't question it. So he doesn't._

_He knows his companion will leave and he can't stop her from slipping away, but this teddy bear is his and he won't let it go, ever. Having nothing is a dull, shocking hurt. This bear is comfort._

_"I'm gonna call you Hambo…"_

**\/\/\/\/**

"Marshall Lee?"

He bolts up on the couch. Pillows fly. He has _got_ to stop jumping at the sound of her voice and giving her rapt attention. That dream – it's been years since he last had it—leaves his mind completely.

"Whut?"

He's _the_ creature of the night, and he's asleep by midnight. Look at how she's messing with his sleep schedule.

"My tummy hurts."

Marshall Lee turns on a table lamp. "Are you hungry? We just ate." Well, _she_ ate. _He_ sucked some red out of tomatoes, because that's how vegan vampires roll. Marceline shakes her head. "Do you have shi—poop troubles?" Shake. "Well, you're too young for butterflies…"

Marceline is clutching Hambo and her stomach with both arms, grimacing.

"It really really hurts."

Two really's. Shit is serious.

"Sit here," Marshall Lee pats on the couch, and goes to the kitchen. He doesn't believe in having medicine, immortal body and all, so he dials on the kitchen phone instead. Beep-beep-beep. He's loathe to call for favors, usually, but this fool makes it so easy to get away with them.

"Hello?" the voice is groggy and cracks. Maybe it's because the owner's pubescent vocal chords are still dropping.

"Bubby," Marshall Lee tries not to sound stressed, but he does. This just might be that-one-time-he-poisoned-his-dog-by-mistake all over again. "I need you."

"It's two in the morning, Marshall Lee."

"You gotta help me." There's a noise, and he knows that Bubba Gumball has taken off his sleep mask and put on glasses.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just – IgotakidandIdon'tknowwhat'swrongwithher."

"Huh?" Gumball gets confused by his antics like others, but he catches on quickly. "Did you just say you have a sick kid?"

"Help me man," Marshall Lee whines. Gumball may be an adolescent pansy of a bro, but he's a bro regardless and those are hard to find.

"Will you stop calling me Bubby?"

"I'll think about it."

"Bring her over. We'll take a look at her," Gumball sighs, and hangs up with a _click!_

Marceline is still lying on the couch, curled up. Marshall Lee wraps her and Hambo in a blanket.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"To see a prince."

**\/\/\/\/**

"You can't feed starving kids _apples_ all day, Marshall Lee."

Prince Bubba Gumball is a young Candy Man coming of age, and usually his pink face has the benevolent look befitting his title. But right now Gumball looks exasperated in his royal pajamas, and Doctor Donut is equally so. Marshall Lee is impervious.

"My bad," he ruffles Marceline's hair in relief. Her short legs swing from the examination table. So it's not appendicitis or food poisoning or some other silly human sickness. Just gas.

"I suggest you take it easy with her, feed her some soup," Dr. Donut shakes her head. "After all, you don't see human children every day."

"Point taken."

"Let's go to the kitchen," Gumball takes Marceline's small hand, and Marshall Lee thinks she'll be a handholding jezebel in ten years.

"Marshall Lee?" Donut takes him aside.

"Pills every four hours, got it."

"Yes, very good. But there's something else you should know…"

**\/\/\/\/**

"You surprise me, Marshall Lee."

They're in the royal kitchens, and Gumball is wearing the most flowery apron in creation.

"What rainbow did _that_ fall out of?" Marshall Lee comments.

"These pockets are lovely," Gumball says. "Keeps my spices close."

Marshall Lee laughs and rocks on his stool. "I should stop expecting you to grow a pair."

"_Shh_," Peppermint Maid hisses, but Marceline is busy slurping chicken noodle. "Don't slurp child, you get air in your tummy."

"What was that about surprises?" Marshall Lee places a bowl of cherries on his lap.

"You babysitting."

"It's temporary," Marshall Lee says in a low voice. "I'm taking her to the daycare tomorrow."

"You're giving her away?" Gumball stirs the cauldron. He always did cook enough for an army.

"I can't keep a kid," Marshall Lee sucks on a cherry. "I can't even keep _bamboo_ alive."

"Okay," Gumball shrugs. "She looks like you, you know." Marshall Lee swallows the cherry whole, and he _never_ swallows whole. "I thought you had a kid at first."

"Looks like his mum," Peppermint calls out from the very long dining table. She's teaching Marceline to use napkins.

"I noticed," Marshall Lee admits. "She's not even from around here, Barney. And I'm an only child." But he rubs his chin and stares at Marceline anyway. Her eyes are grey, like his. Black hair, pointy ears, heart-shaped face, all like his.

Could it be… that _Mummy_… has a secret bastard daughter?

"No way," Marshall Lee snorts.

"I've never even heard of Ooo," Gumball folds his arms.

"Wherever it is, her peeps better get her soon."

"What if they don't?"

Marshall Lee won't even think about that, because in movies orphans are the saddest little things.

"They will."

**\/\/\/\/**

Gumball has a spare room (there are many in the castle, in fact). Marshall Lee likes to think this one is unofficially his, since he's crashed it time and again. He likes that the curtains are a dark kind of red and there's no pink in sight. Maybe he'll bring it up with Gumball tomorrow. But for now he waves back as the prince bids him goodnight.

"Marshall Lee?"

His name is a hot commodity lately.

"Peppermint?" The candy maid is outside in the hallway.

"I gotta talk to you about Marceline real quick."

Said kid is sleeping in the room next to his, drugged up on bowel medicines.

"You know what's up with her?" Peppermint maid is whispering. Marshall Lee floats down to eye level.

"Her bladder?" He guesses. He remembers his earlier conversation with Doctor Donut…

_"Marceline is sick. Another kind of sick," Donut says. Marshall Lee cocks his head._

_"Huh?"_

_"I've seen it in radiation accidents before."_

_"She just survived a war," Marshall Lee says._

_"Must be where she got it. I think she'll have worsening health problems as she grows up."_

_"Can't you fix it?"_

_"No one's found a cure for radiation." No one has _survived _radiation seems to be the implication._

I _lived, Marshall Lee wants to protest. But there's a voice in his head, contradicting him._

_But you became a vampire…_

Peppermint Maid pokes Marshall Lee's forehead.

"No, dum-dum." She beckons him closer and whispers. "Marceline is half-demon."

If it weren't Peppermint Maid, Marshall Lee would snort. But he knows Peppermint has enough supernatural-cred to fill a mosh pit.

"Do you think she's… my _sister_?" Marshall Lee asks.

"No worries, you're mama's boy," Peppermint Maid pats his cheek. "Just thought you should know, in case you want to eat her."

"Peppermint," Marshall Lee says. "I'm _vegetarian_ now."

"Sure you are," she pats his cheek again, and excuses herself. "Good night."

_Half-demon_, Marshall Lee thinks as he closes the door. _Of course_. How could he miss that? He's been one himself. Perhaps that's what draws him to her; they were half-breed anomalies with the vitality of a cockroach.

The last thing Marshall Lee thinks of as he gets on the poster bed is that he'd care about Marceline getting a home – even if she wasn't a replica of his seven-year-old self.

* * *

**A/N**: Many thanks for reviewing! Lay it on me [;

Gumball here is around 14. For story purposes his royalness ages slowly; pink don't crack.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Adventure Time.


	6. Part I: Wonderwall

**Wonderwall**

The citizens of Candy Kingdom are staring. Marshall Lee doesn't care.

"Freakin' vampires."

"Is that another one?"

"I think it's a human."

"Freakin' vampires."

"Didn't you hear? I'm making vampire spawn now," Marshall Lee leers at a passing candy cane mother and child. They scurry.

Hide yo kids, hide yo wife.

"They're scared of you," Marceline says. He doesn't tell her that a decade ago, they kept pelting him with garlic bunches.

"I grow on them. Like a fungus," Marshall Lee flashes a toothy grin at more passers-by. The Candy people may tolerate him now because of the Prince, but there are too many grandfathers' stories of him terrorizing villages and it's just too soon to be friends, apparently. He passes a fruit cart. "Want an apple?"

Marceline scowls.

"Kidding. Hey look, that's the chocolate fountain."

They make a strange pair, the two of them, going through Candy Kingdom. A little girl dressed in Gumball's old clothes, and a vampire floating beside her with a stole— borrowed umbrella. Since they have one destination anyway, what's the harm in showing her around?

Marceline isn't too impressed by the lavish chocolate fountain (Gumball would have a fit if he knew), but she stares at the red licorice pavement beneath her feet. She bends down and licks.

"What was that for?" Marshall Lee is torn between amusement and worry.

"It's cherry." Marceline decides, and gives the pavement another lick. For someone who just survived atomic explosions and major flatulence, she's doing pretty well. Little gumdrop kids across the street are looking, but Marshall Lee gives it a go.

"By Jove, it is," he says. "I wonder what flavor's the stop sign."

Five minutes later, they didn't quite figure out how many licks it took to get to the center of a red elementary school, but Marshall Lee does weasel their way out of destruction of public property charges. He envisions the guards reporting to Gumball later, making the prince fume. _You know how many candy children started following your lead_,_ Marshall Lee?_

"Where are we going now?" Marceline asks.

"Somewhere you'll like," Marshall Lee answers. Probably. They arrive at the Candy Kingdom Preschool, and when Marshall Lee opens the door a tub of face paint sails over his head.

"Morning!" he hollers over the noise of twenty-odd candy children cavorting. The kids don't care, but the three caretakers look like they're seeing a ghost. Marshall Lee approaches anyway.

"I'm Marshall Lee," he says to the nearest girl.

"I know," She's a young lollipop maid, wearing an apron that probably hides her shaky legs. All three caretakers wore aprons. Marshall Lee has never seen clothing so utterly stained. "I'm Linda, and uh, behind me are Lucy and Lacey." Marshall Lee waves. "And who is this?"

"I'm Marceline," the child in question replies. Her face is deadpan as she looks at her surroundings.

"How about you play with that kid?" Marshall Lee nudges Marceline towards a pale, skinny boy playing cars in a corner. Better the corner than the battle zone of toys flying and children rolling around. Once she's gone, he turns to Linda the lollipop girl.

"Is it always like this?"

"N-no, n-not really," Linda smoothes out her apron. Candy people are amusing when they're nervous for their life. "It's recess, you see, other times we make art stuff and learn stuff."

_Get stuffed, _Marshall Lee glares at a little cream puff boy shooting paper wads at him repeatedly. But right now he's got some 'splaining to do. "Marceline over there lost her parents, and I dunno where her guardian is. She needs a place to stay…"

"An orphan?" Linda gasps, and her face transitions from nervousness to concern. "We'd love to have her. She can stay here until we can find her foster parents."

Well, that was easy.

"Excellent," Marshall Lee says, flashing a smile meant to charm.

Linda blushes, but then she whispers. "Is she... _human_?" Rats. More sexy next time.

"Most def." Probably.

"Wonderful. We'll take good care of her."

Marshall Lee racks his head on how to say goodbye, but gives up halfway. Maybe it's a sign not to. Marceline is occupied, playing with Small Pale Boy, and for all that this place is slightly ratch, Linda and her coworkers are better-suited to babysitting than he is. Time to roll out. Meanwhile, Linda is telling Lucy and Lacey something about what an unexpectedly nice deed he's doing.

_Tell me about it_.

"Thanks, ladies," He says quickly. "I'm just gonna head out now—"

"You don't want to say goodbye?' Linda calls out, but Marshall Lee is already out the door. The moment he flies outside and leaves babysitting and kids in general behind, the world is a much quieter, more peaceful place. He shakes the umbrella open and starts flying, because the longer he stays he just might feel guilty and Marshall Lee doesn't like feeling that kind of thing – especially when he's being the good guy.

When he gets home, he'll have to write a song. Something about random acts of kindness and how they don't impair his bad boy image at all.

Marshall Lee vaguely realizes he's flying in a daze, but doesn't bother to snap out of it until

_WHAM_

**\/\/\/\/**

His face burns. So do his arms. Marshall Lee tries to open his eyes –

"_Ow_."

"Long time no see," says a voice, and it's Doctor Donut who looms above him looking amused. It's the royal infirmary again.

"Why am I here?" Marshall Lee groans. Lifting his arm is a bitch.

"You flew right into a billboard," Donut points out of a window. There's a Marshall Lee-shaped tear right in the middle of the Lumpy Space tour advertisement. "Luckily, Prince Gumball was nearby and had you brought here. Your sunburns could be worse."

"I'll be okay," Marshall Lee looks at his forearm and the redness is fading slowly.

"I told you he'd be fine," Peppermint Maid appears beside his sickbed with a mug. "Chicken blood?"

"Wha—_no_, Pepper, I already told you." What's the big disgrace about him not being about that part of vampire life?

"It'll make you feel better."

"No. Where's pretty pink princeling?" Marshall Lee should ask him about that room before he forgets again.

"Making his rounds in the kingdom, of course," Dr. Donut wraps gauze around his forearm. "_Some of us_ have jobs."

"You slay me, doc," Marshall Lee grins. He'll give her that one. "My jobless ass is gonna skedaddle home now—"

"No, you can't have an umbrella," Peppermint Maid snaps. "You stay in this castle until Prince Gumball returns."

"He's gonna lecture me, isn't he?"

"Vandalism 101."

That's not gonna fly, but Marshall Lee keeps quiet and waits for the other two to leave. Be a good little boy, until he can sneak out with a sunhat.

"Just wondering – where's Marceline?" Donut turns back as she leaves.

"Left her at the daycare," Marshall Lee shrugs. "Why?"

"Give this to her, will ya?" Peppermint Maid pulls out Hambo from her apron. It's his for the taking. The moment Peppermint Maid and Donut are gone, he hugs the sorry-looking toy.

"_Yes_," Marshall Lee tosses Hambo into the air. He ignores the fact that he's a thousand-year-old vampire grinning over a bear because this is a Hambo and there isn't another one like it, ever. Marceline won't even notice, she –

_Marceline_.

Something is smacking Marshall Lee in the face repeatedly and he recognizes it as a metaphorical paddle of S-H-A-M-E. Odd. He's Marshall Lee and he's shameless. He takes people's valuables and breaks hearts because he can. He's messed with the living and the undead and everyone in between because that's the kind of hobby that never gets old. Life is too long to be feeling shitty.

But he does.

Marshall Lee lets Hambo fall onto his face. He sighs.

.

.

.

_BOOM_

He jerks his head. From the window, he sees a distant mushroom cloud of billowing white. It's in the direction of Candy Kingdom Daycare Center. There's sweat on Marshall Lee's brow. The antsy throbbing in his chest must be an urge to check out the commotion, yes, not anxiousness for a seven-year-old brat no sirree. He pulls himself off the sickbed.

Marshall Lee will fess up to guilt-trip. But he'll save anxiety for another day.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you shout out to readers! And Gabriella cole! Good catch, didn't realize they first-named him already haha

Almost done with Part I, I'm lookin forward to starting upper-tier MarceLee.

**Disclaimer**: Adventure Time's not mine. QQ


	7. Part I: We'll Be Alright

**We'll Be Alright  
**

The daycare is a mountain of rubble and wire that brings back memories. But Marshall Lee is too busy kicking over debris to reminisce much. Those sorry rock candies that Gumball calls firemen are taking too long, and the spectators aren't helping much, either. Children and adults are wailing, panicking, but none of them are a seven-year-old half-demon girl –

"Where are you!" Marshall Lee shouts at the wreckage. It has a nostalgic smell of smoke and ruin. _Stupid kid_. If only the sun would go away just long enough for him to do heroics without getting blemishes on his oh-so-smooth guy-skin.

_Wham_.

Marshall Lee curses, because even if he's immortal and mighty kicking steel wiring hurts big toes. He lets himself drop on his ass and fume. Headaches. That's what he gets for running around in daylight, playing social worker.

"But fuck you, body," Marshall Lee scowls because _nothing_ tells him what he can't do, not even himself. Another form is readying to burst out of his skin. "Blemishes it is –"

"Why are you wearing bed covers?"

Marshall Lee looks up. The little she-devil is sitting in Gumball's arms.

"What did I tell you about vampires and sunlight?" Marshall Lee peers from under pink infirmary covers he draped around himself minutes ago. Admittedly, they're good sun protection.

"Were you _worried_ just now?" Gumball raises an eyebrow.

"Getting real tired of you guys questioning everything I do," Marshall Lee scowls again, but the lead weight in his chest is quickly dissipating. "What happened?"

"_Ice Queen_ happened," Gumball scowls himself. A blue-skinned, white-haired woman appears at his side. Marshall Lee facepalms. _Of course_…

"I said I was sorry already," The Ice Queen appeals. "I just wanted to surprise you—"

"She plugged in a jukebox and the house exploded," Marceline explains.

"Hey, no harm no foul, right?" Ice Queen waves her hands sheepishly.

"You could've killed a bunch of kids!" Marshall Lee edits out the part where he yells about _his_ kid. "That's laaame. Why can't you just ask Gumball out normally?" The prince looks mortified.

"Really? Prince Gumball –"

"_No_—"

"Ice Queen, girlfriend," Marshall Lee does some Lamaze breathing. "It's your bidness if you pursue little boys." Gumball harrumphs. "But think about _damage control_, huh?" Ice Queen looks ashamed, but mutters something about pots calling kettles black.

"Preach, brotha," someone calls out.

"What a guy," Linda exclaims.

"You got that right."

"Not _my_ children, nuh-uh."

Marshall Lee blinks. There's a slow clap and Candy people are applauding. The high amount of goodwill and smiles beamed at him is making him gag. He takes Marceline from Gumball. She's light and sooty in his arms and he doesn't mind.

"You forgot something," Marshall Lee tells her. He pulls out Hambo from his pants pocket. Marceline is staring at him with those eyes and Marshall Lee the Vampire King is hesitant to look at them in case he sees a hurt, betrayed face. She laughs.

"Thanks Marshall Lee," she smiles, small canines gleaming. It's the first time he's seen her do that – it's infectious. Behind them Gumball looks smug and holds clasped hands to his cheek, and Marshall Lee's middle finger rises on its own accord.

Then a water pipe breaks somewhere beneath the daycare, and there's a geyser in the sky.

"My coif!" Gumball flaps at drizzle dampening his hair while his firemen run for cover. Marshall Lee thinks they better go before the prince remembers they ate a fire hydrant and part of a red licorice building.

"I owe you an umbrella!" Marshall Lee calls out, flying away. Or two, or three, or half a dozen.

"Where are we going?" Marceline asks.

"Home," he answers. But first they'll loot the royal kitchens.

**\/\/\/\/**

"And _that_ is how color was made."

They're watching the girl in pigtails and blue gingham open the door to a bright world. Marceline looks away from the television and frowns at him.

"Yeah right."

"You got me," Marshall Lee chews on strawberry bread, courtesy of Gumball's pantry. "This would be way cooler though."

"She's color blind again," Marceline complains when the film reaches its end.

"She belongs there," he resists making a kitchen joke.

"I wouldn't go back," Marceline looks distastefully at the sepia screen. "I'd know what I'm missing."

"What if it's home? Family, loved ones, all that jazz?" Marshall Lee reaches for his axe base and plucks a tune along with the end credits.

"I'd make a new home."

Not a bad idea.

"You wanna stay here with Simon?"

Marceline nods. "But he doesn't know it's way better here."

"You should tell him," Marshall Lee looks at the bottle of red cider in her hands. Why the hell not. It'll make her feel better. Marceline follows his line of sight.

"Okay."

When did Marshall Lee get so good with kids? He assures himself that he's fucking pro at anything if he feels like it. He's been right so far, all thousand years of it.

"We're still watching _School of Rock_ after," he tells Marceline.

"What's that?"

"Something epic."

**\/\/\/\/**

Marceline throws the message-in-a-bottle.

It lands with a splash. The ocean tide is high and somewhere out there the bottle just might reach its destination. Marshall Lee doubts it. Marceline looks like she does, too. But one could hope.

The moon is full in the sky and Marshall Lee revels in flying freely. He points to the sorry raft in the distance. "Check out your ride."

"Simon will know I was here," Marceline runs over with a stick. She draws arrows in the sand. They'll direct Simon for as long as there's no rain or high tide, which is a glorious half-day. But Marshall Lee likes to ignore common sense.

"Worth a shot," he picks up a soggy stick of his own and starts drawing curly-cues. Marceline approaches his creation, head cocked.

"It's a map to my place," Marshall Lee explains. "That's where he'll find you, yeah?"

Marceline says, "Yeah."

"You _do_ wanna stay at the treehouse, right?" Marshall Lee rubs his head. It seemed so logical to think she'd want to live with him and walk in the path of radical things.

"I wanna see _House of Rock_," Marceline nods.

She wants to walk the path of radical things.

"Sweet," Marshall Lee extends a hand. "We'll get along alright, roomie." He'll have her dapping like a brotha in no time.

What would his mother think, or the rest of the undead community for that matter? Marshall Lee doesn't care. He squats down for Marceline to scramble onto his back one handedly, Hambo ever present in her other fist.

"I like it here," Marceline says as they fly back to his - their- home.

And for all that he gets insufferably bored in Aaa, Marshall Lee has to admit.

"Me too…"

* * *

**A/N**: Asdfghkjsdg done with Part I. I'll work on those cliffhangers /gg

Thanks for the reviews, hope you keep reading!

ps: Loool Emdillyicious. Nah, I'm gonna fastforward now to when Marceline is hot :p

**Disclaimer**: Adventure Time, I wish you were mine.


	8. Sidestory: Follow You Down

**Sidestory: Follow You Down**

* * *

When she was eight…

* * *

Marshall Lee boots his foot up the gremlin's ass.

The gremlin soars through the portal and yells all the way down into the Night-O-Sphere, but Marshall Lee doesn't linger to gloat. Let the fool fend for himself in that land of demons and fire and hellish things in general.

He closes the portal easily like he would a door, because he's the Vampire King and opening doors between dimensions are child's play for him.

It was fun the first few times. But now these would-be kidnappers are getting annoying. It's one thing for occasional idiots to try overthrowing him. But when Marceline becomes the target for low-life kidnappers, Marshall Lee is putting his foot down.

He turns to the girl beside him.

"So… wanna move somewhere less conspicuous?"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

When she was nine…

* * *

"What's with all these hoodlums you're sending?"

Marshall Lee is mildly impressed. His mother has phone lines in the Night-O-Sphere now.

"How are they doing?" He says easily into his telephone.

"Oh, you know. I ate some, enslaved some," Hana Abadeer answers. "Were they heckling you?"

Marshall Lee gives a noncommittal "Eh."

"Mommy's got yo back, baby!"

She's still trying to learn the lingo.

"Mom… give up now…"

"When you gonna come home?" his mother wheedles.

"When you gonna make it up to me?" No, he's not still sore about those fries, it's just that she's not even sorry for eating them right in his face.

"Huh? I don't get it son, what are you—"

"Later Mom!" Marshall Lee hangs up. She'll get it eventually. They'll make peace, eventually. But he's in no rush to reconcile. For now, life is good. "Yo Marcie! Wanna jam at the graveyard?"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

When she was twelve…

* * *

"YOU. ARE. GODS!"

Lumpy Space Prince doesn't wait to be sweet sixteen to throw a raging birthday party. Hell, he's throwing a fourteen-and-three-quarters party in the woods right now because he can. Marshall Lee is starting to like this guy.

"We take requests," Marshall Lee winks at a group of dancing wood nymphs at his feet; they swoon. He and Marceline are rocking out on a podium and literally hiking up this party to astronomic levels. As with every time they rock, the crowd goes wild.

"You're fired!" LSP shouts at the mariachi troop behind him.

"We volunteered," they protest.

"Talk to the hand," the prince flaps said hand. He turns back up to Marshall Lee. "How about something slow? Me and Tonya are _totally_ gonna take it to the dance floor."

"Gotcha," Marshall Lee grins. Marceline catches his eye and he knows they're going to make kickass music for the umpteenth time. He lets his axe bass fall on its strap and holds the microphone like a lover.

"This is for all the ladies. All the fellas," he purrs as Marceline starts a slow beat on drums. Marshall Lee's voice is a smooth baritone and when he sings R&B, panties are sent flying to his feet. But he'll tone it down in case that sets a bad example for Marceline. Music is for the _soul_.

One look and she knows what song they're doing.

_Dance, little minions_, Marshall Lee cackles on the inside as partygoers partner up and start swaying.

"_I don't see nothin' wrong_

_With a little bump and grind_..."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

When she was fourteen…

* * *

"More sexy. Yes, pout, I like that –"

Marshall Lee is sitting on a pedestal in Ice Queen's living room. If she takes any longer with her painting, he just might turn into stone.

_Why am I doing this again?_

One look at Marceline's lit face answers the question. She's peering over Ice Queen's shoulder with Gertrude the penguin in her arms. Each stroke of Ice Queen's brush brings them closer to being given _Femme Boutique _coupons. But does Marceline have to flipping snicker the whole time?

"What?" Marshall Lee says irritably.

"It's so _you_!" she exclaims.

"Wenk!" Gertrude says.

"Done!" Ice Queens cheers. She turns her easel around and Marshall Lee falls off his pedestal, dead.

Well, not quite.

"I look like a freaking Picasso!" he yells. The painting is a black and blue abomination.

"A-what?" Ice Queen looks puzzled. Clearly, the beret on her head and the fancy palette in her hand can't help channel her inner artist.

"I dig it. Very retro," Marceline looks at the canvas.

"Outrageous," Marshall Lee mutters.

"As promised," Ice Queen pulls out the coupons from her eyebrows. Marceline exchanges glances with him and he knows what she's thinking. _Of all the body parts…_

"You owe me," Marshall Lee threatens as Marceline flips through the coupons excitedly. Life was much easier before she started fussing over matching underwear and body spray and _brassieres_ for Glob's sake.

"I have needs," Marceline says. She pockets the coupons in her –his— plaid shirt. Well, some things don't change; she still raids his closet.

"It's going right on this wall," Ice Queen hangs her painting beside her computer desk. "Inspiration for my fanfiction, y'know."

"Fanfiction?" Marceline is all about laughs.

"Oh yeah, it's about everyone except it's a gender bender—"

"I can't deal," Marshall Lee snorts deliriously. He scoops up Marceline –she's still pretty light—and peaces out. He doesn't remember much about those early days with Ice Queen, but he knows she's too far gone into her crown to be _Simone_ again.

Still, she's not all that bad.

"I kinda like her," Marceline says as they're flying over frozen mountaintops.

"Me too…"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

When she was fifteen…

* * *

"I should've KNOWN it was you!"

Prince Gumball flails his arms. It's his princely way of throwing a fit. "Who else would crash the Candy Festival with a _flash mob_?!"

"Joke, man," Marshall Lee takes off his flash mob bling. Marceline does likewise. They're in Gumball's chambers and the prince is pacing across royal pink carpet. "You should be used to this by now."

"_I_ laughed," Marceline peers through a window. In the town square below, skeletons are still dancing that-one-horse-riding-dance in synchrony.

"You're just mad you can't do it," Marshall Lee taunts.

"I can too," Gumball snaps. "The point is, you gave three senior citizens a heart attack!" It's nothing Doctor Donut can't fix, but Marshall Lee refrains from saying so.

"We'll send flowers?" Marceline offers.

"We'll show 'em the dance," Marshall Lee adds.

"Get out," Gumball facepalms. They're incorrigible.

Marshall Lee will never tell Gumball that Marceline caught him half an hour later, dancing in front of his mirror.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

When she was still fifteen…

* * *

"You dressed up as me… and sabotaged my date?"

Marshall Lee stares Marceline down. She's a mirror image of him – has been, from the start— dressed in red plaid and hair styled like his. Something tells him their likeness isn't normal, but he pays it no mind.

"That witch chick was a bimbo!" Marceline doesn't look sorry at all. In fact, she's pretty pleased with herself.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm _thirsty_?" Marshall Lee is half-irritated, half-amused. He's still a perpetually-nineteen vampire with perpetually-active hormones.

"She had soft lips," Marceline gloats with her tongue sticking out. "Right before I told her you had mono."

"What?" Marshall Lee blinks. Marceline sails out of the living room emitting smugness.

"Ay come back! I want details!"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Somewhere in the treehouse…

* * *

"Cake, check this out!"

The blonde girl blew dust off the picture frame she found under the mantle.

"Maybe they were the last owners here," she guesses. A spotted cat peers over her shoulder on elongated legs.

"They left a ton of furniture," the cat replies. She turns on the dusty TV. "Lucky us, huh?"

"They look like siblings," the girl says thoughtfully. Why else would the boy have the younger girl in a headlock?

"Fionna, toss it!" the cat holds out a trash can. The picture lands right into it.

"It ain't like we'll ever meet those guys, right?"

"Right!"

* * *

**A/N:** Three things yall!

1) As always, thanks to everyone showing this story some love.

2) This sidestory, if you didn't get it yet, is a bunch of MarceLee drabbles over the years. It leads to, gasp, the Part II timeline for next chapter. Say whaaat :P

3) My spring break ended so I won't update as frequently Q_Q I'll still post new chapters twice a week or so though. Hope you keep reading! Crit me!

**Disclaimer:** Adventure Time is too godly to be made from my mortal fingers u_u

OH and _Bump N Grind_ is by R Kelly. LSP be gettin down to that song.


	9. Part II: Landslide

**Landslide**

It's early morning and Marshall Lee opens his front door.

He lives in a house-in-a-cave-under-the-bridge now. It's no tree house, but the view is inspiration for existentialist rap and it's always a laugh when Marceline sleep-walks her way into the lagoon out back. When he enters the living room she's still passed the flip out on the couch, just as she was when he left last night. He supposes that's what happens when you stay up for two days working on some kind of magnum opus or whatever she thinks she's doing.

Marshall Lee believes rest is overrated.

"BALDY!" he dropkicks the girl on the couch.

Marceline is sixteen and trained in the arts of bro-dom. He's also likely cracked one too many jokes about her new mohawk. She comes alive in a nanosecond and has him in a camel clutch.

"Watch the bass!" Marshall Lee motions to the guitar strapped on his back.

"Say it's sexy!" she cackles.

"My bass?"

"My 'hawk, Groddamit!"

She looks pretty wild with it, actually, but Marshall Lee is too preoccupied with his axe bass at the moment.

"Too early for lies, Mar-Mar," he protests. Marceline's hold slackens.

"What time is it?" she drops his arms. One look at the wall clock and she's scrambling for the piles of crumpled paper on the floor. "Got it!"

"You found a paper wad," Marshall Lee applauds.

"Shut up," Marceline unfolds the paper. "I took forever writing this baby."

"Ooh, do share," Marshall Lee sets his bass down on its stand by the fireplace. He almost forgets that he sags his pants more these days and when he bends over like he does now, it's a free show.

"What's that?"

Marceline's hand makes a grab for the letter in his pants pocket. Marshall Lee floats out of her reach by centimeters.

"Is it a love letter?" Marceline makes kissy faces. Amazing how much of himself he sees in her, especially his obnoxious side. "Bet it's from Bubba."

"You're still number one," Marshall Lee sidetracks, making to embrace her.

"Hold up, check this out," she repels him with a hand to his face. "I made it just for today."

Marshall Lee stops flailing for her. It's nine years to the day he found her on the shore, not that he's keeping track or anything. They speak of it, sometimes and rarely. But apparently Marceline is sentimental enough to celebrate today. She clears her throat.

"You took me in and

Gave me gas but now I'm glad

We're biffles fo sho."

Marshall Lee finds himself sitting on the couch, staring at her. He's kind of touched. But more importantly

"_Pfft_," The urge to snicker is too strong. It turns into laughter. "It took you _two days_ to write a haiku?"

A vein appears on Marceline's near-bald head. "You butt-munch, Marsh! All my feels are in this!" She starts stomping out of the room and Marshall Lee repents enough to fly after her.

"That was boss poetry," he hugs her from behind. "I got all sorts of feels."

"Don't cry," she grins.

"Happy nine years," Marshall Lee says in a sickeningly sweet voice (he likes to call it The Gumball). Marceline elbows him off.

"I gotta get ready." She runs up the stairs.

"Hot date? On our anniversary?" Marshall Lee pseudo-complains.

"Don't you dare tell him I'm not here!" Marceline shouts from above.

"No promises," Marshall Lee remarks. He's still going to get her back one of these days. But right now he's going to fiddle with his banjolele on the porch because it de-stresses him like a charm. Marshall Lee isn't wound up at the moment but he will be, all because of that letter in his pocket. Its words are sinking in slowly.

That Simon Petrikov sure knows how to drop a bomb.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Flaskback:

* * *

_He'll be damned if he lets Marceline catch him strumming out all these indie feels at home. Sometimes, you just have to go somewhere on the logic that there's no reason not to. So tonight he's back at the shore, jamming with his bass on top of a rock._

_It's nine years to the day he found her and they've long stopped talking about the past because the present is just that dandy. She's never shown an ounce of radiation sickness and there's never been a message-in-a-bottle floating back from Ooo._

_Half way through a song about landslides, his keen eyes spot something across the water._

_It's a bottle bobbing up and down, slowly floating back from Ooo._

* * *

**A/N:** What's in Simon's letter? Who is Marceline's date? Is Marshall Lee biffle-zoned for life?

#3 is clearly a troll question. Thanks for reading, be free with those crits!

OH and if you're confused by the timeline: Marceline is 7 in Part I. She's 16 in Part II/now. She's 16 when she's with Marshall Lee in the prologue but that hasn't happened yet. Nonlinear stories ftw.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AT but would like to.


	10. Part II: Eye of the Tiger

**Eye of the Tiger**

Marceline is a babe; that he won't deny.

Marshall Lee has himself to thank for leading her on the path of awesome. Maybe too awesome. Others are starting to notice in _that way_. Lately Marceline is hanging around that wizard kid Tony and it—he—is grating a little on Marshall Lee's nerves.

Fun fact: Tony evolved from Small Pale Boy of the orphanage.

_Must be destiny_, Gumball had fawned when word got around.

_They played trucks for an hour_, Marshall Lee had snorted. He tries not to imagine what they're playing these days; what else do teenagers do?

Tony is lounging about on the porch and Marshall Lee from his rocking chair thinks he's not wrong at all. Look at that d-bag haircut and those rocker studs and there's probably a tattoo or three on an asscheek –

"So I was just wondering man…"

Marshall Lee realizes he's been plucking a little too hard on his banjolele and eases up. "Yeah?"

"Are you, like, her dad or something?" Tony asks.

"That's crazy, son," Marshall Lee says dryly. That question has been asked before.

"Cool," Tony looks relieved. "I'm not about that whole 'meet the parents' thing."

"You play?" Marshall Lee asks, just because.

"Nah man," Tony laughs. The Marshall Lee Seal of Approval goes from slim to nonexistent. "I'm more into that horror stuff, me and Marcie are gonna see that undead movie—"

"Okay but she gets bored with slashers," Marshall Lee doesn't know why he's giving tips.

_Oh we won't be watching_, Tony mutters and Marshall Lee wants to comment but

"Tony!"

Speak of the devil. Marceline emerges in jeans and a tank top and an unbuttoned red plaid that she no doubt swiped from his closet.

"Marcie!"

"Marshall Lee!" he mimics. Marshall Lee won't stand for awkward third wheel status.

"You guys look like twins," Tony remarks at their matching plaid. "Weird."

"In her shiny bald dreams," Marshall Lee says, but Tony will never know the half of it.

"It's your bedtime," Marceline smirks. The midday sun is glaring outdoors. "Don't wait up!" Tony whips out a wand and they disappear to Glob-knows-where.

Marshall Lee won't even try going to bed. That letter is going to mess with his brain and now not even dulcet ukulele tones can stop him from thinking about it. He really should've just given it to Marceline and let it blow _her_ mind.

Marshall Lee is fishing the letter from his pocket before long. It's a novel and Simon's handwriting is terrible. He's reading it again, and again, anyway. Each time is as confounding as the first and finally he throws the papers on the floor.

Inside, the phone rings.

Marshall Lee gathers the letter and heads indoors. It's a girl's excited voice babbling about evil trees when he puts the phone to his ear. Fionna really should know better than to try to talk him into her rando adventures.

He can feel her jaw drop when he answers with "Sure."

Marshall Lee is done with mind-fuckery for today. It's time for senseless ass-kicking with Fionna and Cake.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Fionna's latest venture takes them deep into the woods.

They're going to find and slay the Tree of Blight because, in Fionna's and Cake's words, "Evil don't grow on trees."

"This is boring," Marshall Lee takes off his sun hat. It's been hours of adventuring and playing background musician with his axe bass has lost allure.

"You wanted to go!" Fionna says below.

"I thought this was a badass hunt, not a nature hike!" He shrugs, but then realizes the joke is on him. When do things ever go right on a Fionna and Cake adventure?

"So fussy," Cake says. "He sounds just like PG."

Marshall Lee swoops down between them. "Say what again? Hmm?"

"Gumball Gumball Gumball."

Fionna's cheeks are a tad pink. He can't resist making them turn magenta.

"Hear that Fionna?" Marshall Lee bats his eyelashes.

"Prince Gumball?" Cake offers. Fionna is beet-red.

"Gumball."

"Gumball."

"Gumball."

"Gumball."

"Gum—"

"_So_ over that!" Fionna punches his shoulder. "I read _Relationships for Dummies_!"

Cake punches the other shoulder. "You gave Fionna your dirty book?!"

"Ow… chill," Marshall Lee rubs his sore spots. "She probably read like two pages."

Heroines and cats have fists like boulders, especially when they swing at him together.

By the time they find the great Tree of Blight at last, it's long past sundown. Marshall Lee isn't impressed; the tree looks like his mother's hair on a static-y day.

"Kill it! Before it lays eggs!" Fionna draws her sword and charges. Cake pulls out matches. This hasn't been one of their more edgy quests, but at least it killed time. They'll torch the tree in about five seconds flat, Marshall Lee thinks, but then he catches a whiff of

"Hug Wolf!" Fionna shouts and dodges the blur by inches.

"Plot twist!" Marshall Lee starts playing _Eye of the Tiger_.

"You're useless!" Cake throws lit matches at the tree. "Hold him off, Fionna!" But it's going to be bothersome if Fionna gets hugged to oblivion, and Marshall Lee doesn't feel like adventuring to cure her afterwards. So halfway through the fight he dives in front of the girl and takes the full brunt of Hug Wolf power.

Wolves smell like nature and this one hugs him extra tight.

"Marshall Lee!" Fionna shouts as Cake sets the Tree on fire. It explodes in flames and the Hug Wolf runs yelping to the darkness, fur on fire. "Are you okay?"

"You crazy, son!" Cake says. "You could turn into some psycho vampire-wolf!"

Marshall Lee starts writhing on the ground.

"It burns! Help me!"

Fionna turns ghostly white.

"Only hugs… can save me…" he reaches out plaintively when Cake slaps him.

"Cut it out," she berates. "If we hurry, we'll make the movies!"

Everyone and their boo-thangs are raring to go see that ridiculous undead thriller. Marshall Lee guesses that the back rows will be crowded tonight.

Fionna helps him up. Is that _admiration_ in her eyes? She must be mistaking his deed for heroism. "You sure you're okay?"

"Vampire King status is absolute," Marshall Lee scoffs, brushing grass off himself and his bass. He'll have petty side effects at worst.

"Thanks Marshall," Fionna smiles. "I owe you." Something tells him she's extra-grateful for having him to complain to lately about Gumball's denseness.

"How do I look?" Cake calls out. She's anxiously licking her paws. Before he knows it, Marshall Lee has his arms around her.

These side effects may not be so petty after all.

"You knockout, you," he says into the cat's fur. He's holding on five seconds too long but hugging just feels so good and Marshall Lee never denies himself feeling good. "Sorry, Hug Wolf symptoms. Give it a day."

"Ain't nobody got time," Cake shoves him off and starts running back to Candy Kingdom on elongated legs. "I'm coming, Lord!"

"Marshall Lee, wanna come to the movies?" Fionna asks as they follow.

"Fionna," Marshall Lee gasps. "Are you asking me out?"

Fionna punches his shoulder, again. He should just keep an arm's length away from her at all times. "Ew, no! I just wanna make it up to you! I'll buy the popcorn?"

He's not above girls getting him things for a change.

"Deal. Let's hug it out," He comes at Fionna with arms open wide.

"You're such a fool!" Fionna rolls her eyes and runs off after Cake. Marshall Lee has never expected to like hanging around a twelve-year-old girl and a cat.

But was that a blush on the little adventuress' face?

* * *

**A/N:** Not gonna lie, I'm just stalling on the big revelation so Simon's letter stays out of the light for now.

More importantly! Marshall Lee with Hug Lust? Why is Fionna blushing? When will there be MarceLee action? I'll get the ball rolling next chapter ;]

Thanks for reading! Reviews/crits appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **Adventure Time isn't mine, except when I daydream.


	11. Part II: Roll To Me

**Roll To Me  
**

Movie nights in Candy Kingdom are at that drive-in theater on a hillock.

Tonight's feature isn't too bad, actually, if you ignore snuggling couples in the front and the kissing crowd in the back.

"We can see you, you know!" Marshall Lee and Fionna throw down popcorn at Cake. The cat ignores them and snuggles on with Lord Monochromicorn, but she _does_ extend an arm to flick Marshall Lee on the forehead.

He slaps the hand away, but the damage is done. He's seen Marceline and Tony in the front row ahead and what kind of world is this where the student gets more action than the master anyway.

"That was pretty good!" Fionna exclaims at the end credits. Marshall Lee shrugs and carries on sucking a candied apple. Fionna looks like she's about to say something else when his vampire senses pick up on _confrontation_ and he knows the guy getting pushed out of his seat in the darkness is Tony of the Douchebag Studs.

Marshall Lee is by Marceline's side in a flash.

She jolts when he touches her elbow but she tells him, "Not now, Marsh."

"I see how you do, babe," Tony scowls.

"Just leave, you sicko!" Marceline snaps.

"You think I'm blind? _You're_ the sick one!"

LSP is cheering somewhere in the stands. "Oh my Glob you guys, drama up in he-yuh!"

"What did you call her?" Marshall Lee scowls backs and for all that it's undignified he'd love nothing more than to hug Tony silly wait that didn't come out right –

"Fight! Fight!" LSP cheers again.

Marshall Lee's arms move on their own. Tony has nice firm shoulders, for a tool.

"The flip, man!" Tony squirms out of the embrace.

"Oh that's so nice," people mutter and nod.

"You want some, bro?" Marshall Lee taunts, if only to save face. But forreal doe, Tony must work out—

"I'm out," Tony slouches off and Marshall Lee thinks that's the kind of break up line you should reserve for walkie-talkies.

"Marceline! You okay?" Fionna and Cake approach.

"Apple?" Marshall Lee offers. He'd rather give more hugs but Marceline is glaring daggers.

"I can handle my business," she hisses. "I don't need you."

"You're welcome!" he calls out as she walks off.

"What's up with that girl?" Cake exclaims.

"She thirsty," Marshall Lee guesses.

"For what?" Fionna inquires and now Cake is glaring that Why-You-Gotta-Spoil-My-Baby-Fionna glare too.

He thinks he's been hanging around too many females today and should quit while he's ahead.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"I told you not to wait up," Marceline enters the living room, hours later.

"Girl please," Marshall Lee yawns from the couch.

"Is that _Hambo_?"

"No," he says quickly, but he's shooting eye-lasers and daring her to try and take the bear away. Marceline flops down on the rug beside him instead. He's generous enough to dangle her a Hambo arm, but break up or no _he_ has an illness. She takes the arm.

"Long day?"

"Hug wolf," he explains. She smiles.

"Oh. I thought you grew some feels."

"I'm _all about_ feels," he turns to her. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Eh. It was coming anyway."

He actually _does_ want to know details about the break up. But Marceline can't keep anything from him for long anyway. She's silent for a good ten seconds.

"Me and Tony have been trying to get to Tier 15 for _weeks_—"

Marshall Lee doesn't feel like knowing anymore.

"Toodles!" he flies off, hands over ears, but Marceline pulls him down by the foot.

"You listen to my feels!" she demands. Marshall Lee is honor-bound by Law of Real Talk _and_ the Bro Code, so he complies and reels in the cherry jokes.

"We just can't get there, Marsh," Marceline says moodily. "Tonight was too much, I guess."

"He broke up with you 'cuz you guys can't get it on?" If it were anyone else he'd have a laugh. Right now even his current hugfest can't abate the desire to kick Tony in the nads. He reaches for his axe bass. "Be right back Mar—"

"Dude it was my fault too—" Marceline hangs onto him by a sleeve.

"I'm just gonna talk to him." Marshall Lee thinks he better bring that rope hanging over the fireplace. "Just gonna talk—"

"I said your name."

He stops.

"At the movies. We were… then I said your name instead."

That's not strange at all. There's a growing smugness in Marshall Lee's gut.

Marceline sits back down and blows a stray lock of hair from her face. She looks as if someone just took her butterfly guitar and made sweet love to it. "Am I messed up, Marsh?"

"Nah," Marshall Lee drops the bass and sits down beside her. "I'm just hot. Everyone thinks about me."

"Don't judge me." She says it more like a threat.

"Never. We'll be sickos together." He holds out a fist and they pound as bros do. Except Marshall Lee's level of smugness is too high on the inside, and he's feeling more than a little affectionate. "Wanna go egg his house?"

"Okay," she yawns, and he knows they're not going anywhere for as long as this sofa they're leaning against is comfortable as hell. Marshall Lee has Hambo in his arms again and that seals the deal. "How dumb was that movie, huh?"

"Very. Let's watch the sequel?"

"Fo sho."

Marshall Lee vaguely remembers discussing guitar riffs with her for a new break up-inspired song. Perhaps it's due to fading Hug Wolf effects, but Marceline's face is particularly aglow tonight, tired eye-bags and all. He'll be manlier in the morning when these fuzzy feels are gone and he's not the biggest serial hugger in the land bar none. But for now he listens to the sound of her voice.

The next time Marshall Lee comes awake, he's substituted Marceline for Hambo and they're lying on the rug like it's their natural habitat.

He's noticing all sorts of petty things, like how the hair that Marceline _does_ have left smells nice and how her limbs are perfectly proportioned to match his and when did she get such nice _boobs_ for Glob's sake.

"_That escalated quickly_," He mutters into the back of her neck. Marceline stirs.

"Marsh?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we spooning?"

"Huh. Guess so."

"Weird."

"Yeah?"

"Nah."

It doesn't feel weird at all. Something tells him this should be wrong but when she's leaning back into him like this he just wants keep her there for as long as his arm doesn't cramp, which is forever since he doesn't actually have blood circulation.

He really should just stop sidetracking and enjoy the moment.

He really should give her that letter.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading/reviewing! Writing critiques are even better :]

There's only more romancin' and tier-climbing from here so I guess kiddies beware.

**Disclaimer:** Adventure Time isn't mine. Especially not that Simon & Marcy episode tomorrow ugh get the feels ready.


	12. Part II: Bizarre Love Triangle

**Bizarre Love Triangle**

_There's rustling on his bedsheets and he knows that it's her. Outside it's a thunderstorm and lightning paints the sky but she's too old to be scared of such things._

"_You scared?" he taunts._

"_What, a brotha can't cuddle?" her voice taunts back. He opens his eyes._

"_Nice jammies, bro," he points out her night ensemble. They're duck printed pajamas and just about the least seductive thing he's ever seen besides Lumpy Space Prince wearing Booty Pop. He thinks she looks surreal._

_Marceline doesn't take no for an answer. Soon they're lying quietly together again, not speaking, because for now holding is enough. It's like that time she was eight and kept having nightmares, except now she's a grown-ass woman who climbs into a guy's bed like it's no big deal._

_That, and Marshall Lee just might care even more for this girl now than he did back then._

"_So scandalous," he whispers._

"_Who cares?"_

_He has to admit._

"_Not me."_

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Except his dreams don't always stay so PG/Prince Gumball-rated.

It's been weeks since the movies. Marshall Lee didn't expect for one small hugging spree to have lasting consequences.

He hasn't been this type of needy in a while. It's kinda funny.

Not so funny when he's running out of clean sheets and when the Marceline he sees at night with warm lips and warm everywhere is as real as the one that wrestles him over pizza by day. Maybe it's time to get a new girlfriend. But what is the point, really, when he comes home to _her_ everyday?

"She's like, my _sister_," Marshall Lee drops his head on Gumball's desk. "Kind of."

"Fionna?" Gumball sounds puzzled.

Marshall Lee blinks. "What?"

"Nothing," Gumball pushes a stack of pink paperwork aside. The prince may have grown a little older over the years, but Marshall Lee still awaits visible testosterone.

"I'm a psycho," Marshall Lee moans, still faceplanting.

"Are you actually sorry?"

Bubba Gumball knows him well. He grins.

"Nope."

But he's at least bothered enough to complain. Marshall Lee has felt want before; this is something else.

"It's killing me man," Marshall Lee stares into space. "I kinda like it." He should just do a _Hellfire*_ number right now and throw one of Marceline's scarves into the fire. He hears a sniff and Gumball looks shiny around the eyes. "Are you..?"

"I'm touched," Gumball defends. "We're having a heart-to-heart."

"Why do I even?" Marshall Lee makes to leave. "You think babies come from _storks_ for Globssakes."

"I do not!" Gumball looks indignant. "I'm very glad for you, in fact."

Marshall Lee has expected Gumball to be the voice of (naïve) reason, not support.

"You can't help who you love, right?" Gumball has a dreamy expression. "Can't fight the feeling."

_Oh Glob._

This _is_ a heart-to-heart. It's time to bounce.

"Red velvet is on the top shelf," Gumball calls out as Marshall Lee flies off to the kitchens. He really does know him too well. "Oh and Marshall Lee?"

"Yeah?"

"Tonight. Don't forget the karaoke party."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

He's been avoiding Marceline lately.

Maybe that's why when he finally sees her at Fionna and Cake's party, it's like looking with brand new eyes.

"Marshall Lee!" Fionna greets, jello platter in hand. "You made it!"

"I dig the garnish," he looks around the festive treehouse. Fionna and Cake have the most wildly assorted guest list; even Ice Queen and Getrude are here. Unfortunately none of them can carry a tune, the way microphones are squealing tonight.

"You like it? My new hat?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," Marshall Lee ruffles said rabbit hat on Fionna's head. "Very precious. Show it to Bubba."

"Hey!" Steam comes out of Fionna's nose. "I _told_ you—"

"Oh my Glob you guys! It's Marshall Lee!" LSP appears and grabs Marshall Lee's arm.

"Song! Song!" Ice Queen chants.

"Joke, Fi," Marshall Lee throws a parting wink at the girl. "Looks good."

"Marceline you goin' down, girlfriend!" LSP threatens.

Marceline looks him up and down. "Psh. I ain't scared."

"Ooooh," says everyone else, and the living room divides between Marceline and LSP.

"Is this what I think it is?" Marshall Lee shakes his head, because having him and Marceline on opposite sides is folly. Gumball pulls out earmuffs and Cake throws some plastic over furniture.

"Two words," LSP says dramatically into a microphone, though Marshall Lee knows he'll shove it into _his_ hands when Marceline starts leading her side to righteous beat boxing fury.

"_Riff off_."

Half an hour of riff off frenzy later, the power blows out.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Ice Queen shouts in the pitch dark. There are flurries everywhere.

"Ice Queen, cut it out!" Cake says.

"Let the woman speak," Marshall Lee is enjoying night vision perks. There's plenty of groping and tripping going on around him.

"Yes, positively exhilarating," Gumball agrees. "Especially since our side was the victor."

Gumball unleashes a new flurry - the wordy, argumentative kind.

Someone tugs on Marshall Lee's arm again. He knows this touch. Marceline leads him away from the uproar to the rooftop upstairs.

"Well played, sir," she tells him.

"We are godly," Marshall Lee agrees.

The only light for miles around are the ones in the sky. He likes how she looks in the dark.

"Good times, here," Marceline looks fondly at ratchet tree house architecture around them. Her hair is growing in nicely and she wears it down these days.

"You took me up here to reminisce?"

"Well no, but it's too loud down there," Marceline beckons him closer. There's no way in real life this will end in a passionate make out session but the juvenile corner of Marshall Lee's imagination is taking off –

"In your face," Marceline whispers and her eyes dance. Imagination plane goes down in flames.

"_What_?"

If anything, he should be saying that to her.

"I so won that showdown!" Marceline cackles.

"Were you deaf?" Marshall Lee flies in circles. "My people torched your people!"

"Are you on tomatoes? Bow to the queen!"

"All I see is a butt-munch!"

"Butt-sniffer!"

"Butt-face!"

And when they're out of names to call there's nothing left to do but declare thumb war.

"I miss your face," Marceline says. They're sitting cross-legged and going all-out.

"Hm?" Marshall Lee knows if he takes his eyes off their thumbs he'll stare at her face and lose and he can't have that.

"You've been avoiding me, man," she accuses.

"Ehh," Marshall Lee rubs his hair with a free hand. "I needed me-time?"

"Come back already."

And now he's just holding her hand. It's long, soft, callused at the fingertips. This hand runs through his hair and scrapes down his back and torments him in sleep. But holding the real thing is oddly better. Marceline's breath catches as he presses into her palm.

The lights flash back on.

"Found you guys!" Fionna's head pops out of the trap door. "C'mon, we're having jelly bombs!" Marshall Lee gets up, and Fionna's wide smile turns upside down.

"Marsh?" Marceline shakes his hand. It's still intertwined with hers.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"Fionna wanted to sing with me?"

Marshall Lee looks from Marceline to Gumball and back. They're hitching a post-party ride on Lord Monochromicorn and apparently, there's a reason why Fionna wouldn't let them stay and help clean.

Gumball nods. "_R&B_ songs."

"Oh." Marshall Lee thinks back to his recent hangout sessions with the girl. Granted, they usually just joke about Gumball. Fionna is susceptible to rebound crushes after all. "Woops. Nipped that crush in the bud then, didn't we?"

"_We_?" Marceline is taking a sisters-before-misters stance and he won't stand for it.

"Like you didn't like holding my hand," Marshall Lee grins.

Lord Monochromicorn says something in Korean.

"Oh my Lord," Gumball gasps. "I can't tell them _that_."

"Thank you Lord for your blessings," Marshall Lee has read sufficient _Korean for Dummies_, specifically the innuendos chapter.

"Blessings for what?" Marceline hasn't.

"Lord knows," Marshall Lee feigns ignorance.

"Lord help us," Gumball mutters when they start arguing again.

"Tea?" Marceline offers when they reach the cave. Marshall Lee wonders how much gossip goes around at tea time when Gumball and the girls get together. He'll have to crash it sometime.

"We'd best head back," Gumball shakes his head. "I didn't bring pepper spray tonight."

"This isn't the boondocks you know," Marshall Lee scowls.

"Your neighborhood, sir, is ratchet," Gumball scowls back and Lord Monochromicorn agrees. Marshall Lee sees them off anyway, waving.

Marceline is looking at him with her head to one side, like she's never seen him before.

"What?"

"You're so out of it these days, Marsh."

He should just come clean and they can put this behind them.

_I dream about you_.

But he stays quiet and she walks into the house. They're perfect as they are. This secret is all kinds of unnatural, best buried six feet under.

But to be honest with himself Marshall Lee wants to go tell it to the mountain with Marceline standing right at the peak where she'll hear him clearest. Marshall Lee is a greedy child and won't be content pretending otherwise. This feeling isn't going anywhere. A meteorite couldn't send her running.

He might as well let her know.

"Marcy!" he's up the stairs and banging on her door. "Marcymarcymarcymarcy—" She opens with a toothbrush in her mouth and she's wearing the rubber ducky pajamas. Fantasies do come true.

One day he'll tell her those pajamas turn him on.

"I think I like you."

Understatement of the decade, but they have to start somewhere.

Marceline stares.

Then she steps forward…

* * *

**A/N: **There's a bajillion reasons for MarceLee to be wrong but in this fic it is all sorts of righteousness. Let there be love.

Thanks to everyone keeping up with Saudade! Be free with those reviews :]

* _Hellfire_ as in the Disney song. It is _sublime_. All those twisted passion feels.

**Disclaimer:** Adventure Time isn't mine.


	13. Part II: Semi-Charmed Life

**Semi-Charmed Life**

He wants to touch Marceline. He doesn't get the chance to though because she pushes him aside and runs for the bathroom.

"You couldn't wait?!" she washes toothpaste from her mouth.

"No!" Marshall Lee leans by the doorway. Marceline wipes her chin with a sleeve but water still drips down her lip and in the back of his mind Marshall Lee thinks that can easily segue into childish horseplay or grown-up foreplay. The main issue right now, though, is that the Biffle Ship they're on suddenly isn't big enough anymore. "Just thought I'd let you know…"

Marceline looks about to laugh or faint.

Marshall Lee did not think this through. What does he expect to happen now, really? And he isn't nervous; he just won't take silence for an answer. "Say something."

It takes forever. But she reaches out for him and buries her face into his shirt.

"I thought it was just me going insane."

Suddenly their bathroom is cloud nine. Marceline can't see it, but Marshall Lee is grinning like a fool and when she's out of sight he's going to fist-pump like he's in an 80's movie.

"I told you," Marshall Lee says. "We'll be sickos together."

It's more than nice just _standing_ there with Marceline's arms around his waist and his holding her close.

"So you want to date me, Marsh?" he can feel Marceline smirk against his collarbone.

"Nah. I'm just gonna throw you on your bed and break the headboard," Marshall Lee rolls his eyes. "Yeah I want to date you. Dum-dum."

"How many headboards have you broken?" Marceline looks up at him, curious. Of course she'd ask that when they're having a moment. He laughs.

"You really wanna go there? We've been together three minutes."

"No way. I'm not saying yes in a bathroom."

She would if he started kissing her, but Marshall Lee has to agree that this is slightly tacky.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

Marceline isn't the only perverse one; he lifts her up easily.

"To make some wood, babe."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

There's a giant oak in the Forest of Trees that sticks out like a sore thumb. Marshall Lee and Marceline are on the uppermost branches now, admiring his handiwork.

"I call the first M," Marceline traces the large _M + M_ etching on the trunk. They're as official as any preteen couple now. Marshall Lee lifts his axe bass again and makes it a poorly-margined _ML + M_.

"Let the man wear the pants, Mar."

"Old fart, this isn't last century!"

"I will send you to the kitchen!"

"Try it!"

"Bring your spatula!"

This is the most undignified first date in history. In fact, it seems like any day of being together – except there's that new alien _something_ about hanging out. Marshall Lee concludes that undignified is just their style. Right now it's enough to sit with her in a tree, even without the k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

"What do you want out of life, Marsh?" Marceline draws big dippers in the sky with all the wrong stars. Astronomy was never her strong point.

"Be happy, I guess," Marshall Lee shrugs. "You?"

"Same."

Now she's just making her own constellations. Marshall Lee takes her hand and guides her finger through Cancer. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering what it's like, living for centuries."

"The fun wears off," Marshall Lee admits. "After a couple centuries you realize want is finite..."

"Nothing lasts, then."

"Nothing." This girl in her duck pajamas doesn't need tomatoes to get him talking high as a kite.

"Hey, Tier 1," He grins, holding out their hands.

"You move so fast," she remarks.

"Everyone's gonna talk, you know," Marshall Lee says.

"Who cares," Marceline leans her head against his shoulder, and that ends their discussion about the future. Just as well, since Marshall Lee believes in seizing the day. Actually, if he bends his head just a little lower he can get their first kiss out of the way. Apparently she's thinking the same thing because she tilts her head up to meet his…

Marshall Lee sneezes.

_Fuckery_.

"Are you _sick_?" Marceline moves back and she's staring at him like _Common Cold_ stamps itself on your forehead when you get it. He should've worn thicker plaid.

"_No_," Marshall Lee retorts. But the one sneeze made all seasonal hell break loose and now his voice sounds stuffier than a holiday turkey. "I'm really smooth, I swear."

Marceline laughs and wipes his nose with her sleeve. "You should take me home."

"But I want sexual healing," he whines. _So close…_

She pulls him to his feet. Marceline isn't much shorter than him now but she stands on tip toe and pulls his neck down and between the two Marshall Lee has no choice but to let her have first dibs on Tier 2. This kiss is short and sweet.

Except it isn't anymore when she parts her mouth open and he's a goner. The small of her back was made for pressing her harder against him.

It's a shame Marceline has to stop for air eventually.

"Tier 7 is mine," Marshall Lee declares.

"I do what I want," Marceline scoffs. She takes her fingers from his hair. "To the crib!"

Well he wasn't expecting them to get to 15 in one night anyway. Hell, hours ago he wasn't even sure of anything except that he liked her and that she'd be okay with knowing. Marshall Lee slings his bass over his shoulder. They should go before he starts believing in that serendipity nonsense.

"Pinch me," he tells Marceline as they're flying back. She complies; his cheek stings and he's very much awake.

"Pinching fetish?" she raises a brow.

"Most definitely."

He'll tell her about those dreams some other time.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Gumball gasps.

"What are you two doing?!"

"Foreplay," Marshall Lee says matter-of-factly.

Gumball, Fionna, and Cake have chosen Day 3 of Marshall Lee's flu sickness to pay a visit, wearing face masks. It's also the same day Marshall Lee lost his nail-painting virginity. Marceline has him on the floor at her feet applying nail polish.

"He got me ill," Marceline explains. "So now he's my prison bi—wife." That's probably why Cake likes her more; she minds her manners around Fionna. That, and Marceline never bit Cake in the ass and tried to suck her dry.

"This is voluntary," Marshall Lee snaps when Gumball makes whipping motions.

"We got you guys chicken noodle," Fionna holds out a whole cauldron. They won't have cooked it themselves like normal people, no, this has Epic-Journey-To-Food-Witch written all over it.

"Out," Cake kicks him out of the living room.

"I am The Night," Marshall Lee says but he can't sound intimidating when he sniffles like a little princess. Marceline sneezes.

"Exactly," Gumball chastises as he hands her tissues. "You guys won't get better like this!"

They just might, actually. Having houseguests removes their freedom to make out at will (though it's really Marceline's fault if she can't keep herself from sucking face and catching flu). Marshall Lee finds himself exiled to his own kitchen with Fionna and the soup.

He takes the cauldron and tries to squeeze it into the fridge. "You guys didn't have to."

"We wanted to," Fionna gives him a hand. "And I wanted to make up for being weird at the party anyway."

Silly girl.

"I heard you wanted to sing with me," Marshall Lee grins and she blushes.

"Here's your book back. I don't really need it right now," Fionna pulls _Relationships for Dummies _out of her backpack. She looks at him seriously. "Marshall Lee, why can't a girl and a guy just like each other?"

A legitimate question. "Everything would be way easier, huh?"

"But it happens sometimes?"

"Sometimes." Fionna is naïve and silly and almost butch, but she don't need no man to be a chill friend. Marshall Lee pulls on her bunny hat. "I'd sing with you any day."

And just like that _the crush_ is behind them.

There's a bloodcurdling scream from the living room.

"Marceline!" they both shout, but when they rush into the room it's Gumball who lies faint in Cake's arms.

"What in the he-ell is that?" Cake gasps.

Marceline turns around, immensely amused and slightly apologetic. "So by the way, we have a dog now…"

Over the past few days they've realized that while Marshall Lee is a dread slayer of household pets, you can't accidentally kill something that's dead already. Hence the zombie poodle on her arms. It's kind of cute, really, with red little eyes and sharp little fangs and sassy little attitude. The girls start to fawn, and Gumball lies forgotten on the couch.

"I call him Schwabl," Marceline says, throwing Marshall Lee a smug look.

He'll have to convince her later that Wienerschnitzel is a better name.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Everyone does talk when the word gets out. The undead are especially fascinated that the Vampire King has a half-demon half-human lover.

Marshall Lee lets them talk. It's enough that he and Marceline are best friends-turned-couple and even if he's known her for half her life being together feels like the best most natural thing in the world. But always in the back of his mind –also in his sock drawer— is Simon's letter.

He'd like to burn it and pretend he doesn't know the truth.

Marshall Lee knows he's going to tell Marceline in the end. It's just a matter of when but every day it gets harder because he feels ridiculously glad to have lived this long just to be alive right now. Simon's words are like pigeons that always come shitting on his parade at the best moments and he's reminded that if having Marceline seems too good to be true in his world, that's because it is.

"_I don't care what we're supposed to be," _she told him today. "_As long as there's us."_

Marceline is with him right now. They're not kissing or fucking or even being cute, just sitting on the porch with a banjo. She's singing something about sand beneath her toes and the four right chords that make her cry. Marshall Lee thinks he can keep on being with this girl forever and in the words of Fionna why can't two people just like each other anyway.

He'll tell her the truth tomorrow maybe.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N: **Chronologically we are now past the Prologue wooo. There won't be a theylivedhappilayeverafter ending anytime soon because I want this story and this pairing to go deep. Or at least try to :p

Anyway. I make this really dope Gollum face when someone reviews so… you should do it… But forreal doe. Thanks to everyone reading and lemme know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **AT isn't mine #sigh


	14. Part II: Secret Smile

**Secret Smile**

Marshall Lee floats past Marceline's door.

Or he was going to, but her door is wide open. Marceline stands with her back to him. She's looking at herself in the mirror with both hands holding up her hair and if Marshall Lee had her looks – wait but he does—he'd proclaim himself Queen of Hot Stuff In General. His girlfriend looks a knockout in maroon lingerie; the sheen falls just over her butt and her back is an exposed wonderland. But Marceline's face is hilariously distressed as she examines her reflection in different angles. Marshall Lee snorts derisively.

Marceline turns and drops her hair. She strides towards him on those slender legs and Marshall Lee wants to ask if she can do it again in slow motion but first he has to stop her from slamming the door in his face.

"Why are you home already?!" she pushes the door but he's pushing back.

"Gummy-Bear is busy!"

"Go back over there!"

"But I wanna see."

"You're not supposed to," Marceline snaps. She may have muttered _yet_. Marshall Lee pouts through the gap between them.

"You dropped something."

"I don't want your jaw," Marceline rolls her eyes, but relents and lets him in. She makes an exaggerated twirl. "What do you think?"

Marshall Lee responds by lifting her off her feet and going for the bed.

"I can't think right now, that's how great you look," he mutters into her neck.

"Shoes," Marceline whispers back. Marshall Lee groans, and sits upright. He makes a show of untying his converse.

"Where do they even sell those?" he asks.

"Some store at the pink-light district," Marceline shrugs. "LSP and Cake took me the other day."

Should he even ask why LSP knows about lingerie stores? Marshall Lee decides not. "I knew those two were freaky."

"Fine, I'll take you there," Marceline wags her brows, grinning. "You don't gotta front."

"Excellent."

Marshall Lee drops the second shoe and pushes her back down. Ironic, really, that lingerie is worn to be taken off. It's intoxicating how Marceline's back arches when he touches her in the right spots. She smells like cherry. But somewhere between the second love bite and Tier 9, Marshall Lee stops. They're been like this before.

"Hey," he says to her flushed face.

"Yeah?"

"Did you get lingerie for when we start having sex?"

She looks at him like he can't spell cat. "Yeah?"

"I love you," Marshall Lee says, and means it.

_Then show me_ is what her hands say when one wanders across his back and the other tugs at the belt over his skinny jeans. Marshall Lee knows it's now or never to be honest because he's incapable of lying to her _or_ putting Tier 15 off indefinitely.

"What's wrong?" Marceline asks quietly. He slumps over to her left side, frustrated. Marshall Lee is a stranger to self-restraint. Fingers run through his hair and they feel as good as anywhere else she's touched him.

"Do you ever notice that we're so alike, Mar?" he turns to her. He slides the sheen hem over her hip and up to her waist. There's a birthmark on her pelvis. He has one too – same spot and shape and color.

"All the time," Marceline wipes his bangs from his face and he knows she sees eyes and nose and lips and face identical to hers. "No one gets me like you do."

"Ditto." For the longest time, he's accepted that significant other doesn't apply to him.

"So what's the problem?" she demands. "Do I have to put a ring on it?"

He snorts. "Nope."

"Pinch me."

Marshall Lee stares.

"'Cause sometimes I just can't believe you love me," she says with a silly grin that makes her eyes crinkle, and Marshall Lee decides for good that there are better ways to convince than pinching.

His shirt is first to go. The belt follows it to the floor, and even if it's been a while he can still pull the pants-off-with-one-hand trick.

"You're perfect," Marceline accuses, hands exploring his chest and abs and downwards.

"You," he lifts her gown off completely. Her breasts are small and round and her stomach is smaller than he remembers; Fantasy Marceline pales like an old memory. Marshall Lee thinks she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and ever will see and even if it might be impossible to do her body justice he's going to go down trying, literally.

He isn't new to being someone's first. He knows how quickly her breath will turn ragged when he starts using tongue and teeth on naked skin and how tightly she'll grip her bedsheets, writhing. The panties come off – they're lovely, really, but she looks good in anything—and join everything else on the carpet. Marceline's legs are a pleasure to hold.

Marshall Lee makes sure to pay homage to every inch of her skin, head to toes and back.

He doesn't need air, but eventually he's breathing as deeply as she is. It's a painful, gentle kind of torture to want this much and go so slowly.

"Marshall," she whispers into his ear, and her voice begs. Not Marsh or Marshie-boo or hey you or butt-munch.

"Say it again."

"Marshall."

"Say it."

"_Marshall_."

Entering is just as easy as anything else they've done. Being inside her is unlike any other heaven. Marshall Lee doesn't believe in losing control as an excuse to act like a damn savage, but Holy Grod he just wants to fuck this girl a zillion ways to next year until the earth explodes or they melt into each other or both, Groddamnit. Marceline looks into his eyes and even if she hasn't said it yet he knows what her expression screams out.

She loves him.

He swallows the urge to moan in his throat. There's something innocent about the way they're making love – _him _of all people. Her nails aren't even that long but his back is in shreds and he can't help it if she's letting him rock back and forth harder and faster. But they have all the time in the world later to fuck this way and that way like they've gone insane. They're a tangle of limbs and touching skin; Marshall Lee paces their bodies until she shudders along with him. They make their way back to that high, over and over.

This afternoon isn't short, but it's sweet.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

They didn't break her headboard, but Marceline walks on shaky legs anyway.

Marshall Lee looks out of the window lost in thought when her arms circle his bare waist from behind. He used to jolt long ago when she materializes like a ninja, but now he leans into her touch. Her head rests between his shoulder blades and her breasts feel soft against his back. She sighs.

"I love you," she says. Marshall Lee is soaring over mountain and meadow and glen.

"That's what it takes to get you to tell me?" he grins.

"I thought it was a given," she says innocently.

"Are you wearing my plaid?" Marshall Lee looks down at her arms.

"Trophy."

"_I_ despoiled _you_."

"_I_ seduced you."

He's already watched her deep in exhausted sleep hours ago. Marshall Lee turns around and she's still as fantastically disheveled awake, hair flowing wild and marks all over. It's only the first time but Marshall Lee thinks she'll always look best the morning, afternoon, or evening after. He tells her so.

"Okay," she smirks, arms still around his waist. "But I want more lingerie."

_They _are some kind of freak miracle, a series of improbable impossible events that happened anyway and turned into Marshall Lee and Marceline, together.

Marshall Lee thinks nothing is going to touch _them_ if he can help it.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

A morning not long after, he finds Marceline standing over his bedroom drawer. The sock drawer is open.

Marceline has one of her socks in hand. Maybe he took it by mistake or something. In the other hand she holds Simon's letter, all ten pages of it. She looks at him with an expression he's never seen on her before. Marshall Lee can feel his heart dropping to the bottom of his ribcage.

"How long have you had this?"

It's the look he thought she'd give him when he tried to dump her in the orphanage years ago. It's so much worse than he imagined, seeing it now.

"Months," Marshall Lee's throat is dry. He floats towards her—

"Don't," Marceline says, and she sounds like she's begging. That tone sounds so out of place when not on a bed.

"Babe, I can explain—" Marshall Lee says. She wipes at her eyes angrily and oh Glob don't let her cry because it's going to be because of him and she never cries at anything.

"You had no right," Marceline says. "Simon _saved me_, Marsh, He's family. I love him."

"What were you gonna do, paddle back to Ooo and save him?" Words are slipping out of his mouth.

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because it's useless! You're gonna watch her go batshit crazy and there's nothing you can do about it and all you'll do is feel like shit!"

Marceline's eyes are steely. "Me and Simon aren't you and Ice Queen."

Her tone says _I'm not you_.

"But aren't you?" Marshall Lee says. His words bite more than hers.

"But you had no right to keep this from me," Marceline looks so hurt. He wants to hold her.

"I was going to tell you."

"Why didn't you?

It seems grossly wrong to use _that word_ as his excuse. Marshall Lee realizes there's no way he's going to come out of this fight not looking like a selfish insensitive unsympathetic ass. Those are fairly accurate descriptions at the moment. Marceline shakes her head.

"Do you hate me?" he comes closer, tentatively. "Do you hate how I made you feel?" She's near enough to embrace. "Are you _disgusted_?"

Marshall Lee takes a gamble and reaches out for her.

"I meant everything, you know," he says into her hair. Her beautiful black hair, exactly like his, just like everything else. Marceline sniffs into his chest and Marshall Lee thanks whatever deity above is letting the two of them start making up with a hug.

But then she says "Let go."

He lets her push herself away even if it's so tempting and just as easy to just say no. Marshall Lee tries one more time. "Marcy—"

"Don't follow me," she says and walks out of his room without looking at him. If he goes after her he's going to beg and make excuses and chain her to the stairs until she forgives him or he finds a good hypnotist. So he lets her go. Their front door slams. For the first time, Marshall Lee thinks he deserves to feel terrible.

Marceline dropped the sock but she took the letters.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N: **Ta-da.

Not gonna lie, I can't do hardcore lemon so nothing too descriptive up in hurr.

Shout out to Gabriella cole and Emdillyicious for constant support. And BarrenTeeth your review was too kind :] Thanks to everyone keeping up with this fic! Crits appreciated too.

**Disclaimer:** Ain't nobody got time to make Adventure Time. Except Pen Ward.


	15. Part II: 1901

**1901**

"**Dear**** Marceline**,"_ he reads out loud._

"**Did you get my last letter? How about the other ones? I write a bunch every time, in case some get lost. It's a big ocean after all.**"

_"_I_ could've gotten lost," Marceline says. She's sitting on the couch with his head on her lap. Marshall Lee thanks Glob that Simon has better aim with rafts than messages-in-bottles. He continues._

"**I need to tell you something really important, Marcy. I'm forgetting more and more every day, so I need to tell you the truth now.**"

_"I told him over and over," Marceline sighs. She runs her fingers absentmindedly through his hair. "That crown is bad news."_

"**There was a theory going around before the war: what if we lived in a reverse parallel universe? Sounds silly, doesn't it. But I didn't know how true this was until I got the crown. I'm serious Marcy, you need to read this. Do it for me? Turn to page 24 for Grand Unified Theory. I even drew diagrams for you."**

_Four pages into Grand Unified Theory*, Marshall Lee shoots Marceline a look of despair. But she's staring off into space and even though she doesn't want to read this letter herself hearing him read Simon's words is making her happy-sad-nostalgic. He keeps calm and carries on._

**"I get so many visions! I see so much knowledge! That's how I knew I could send you somewhere safe. There's a hole between our world and the opposite world and I sent you through it. With some magic of course. See? This crown is good for something after all, haha."**

_"You have his chicken scratch," Marshall Lee comments at Simon's handwriting. Marceline smiles but she smacks him, because you just don't talk about homeboy Simon like that. Eventually they get to that part of the letter._

**_"_I bet you'll meet a kid just like you. Probably a boy with a cowlick, so don't get too friendly okay? If you meet my opposite self, remind her—us—that we're good at basket weaving." **_Marshall Lee exhales. Reminding Ice Queen about anything hasn't worked in decades. More importantly, Marceline stops playing with his hair. But she says nothing. So if Simon has the foolish balls to be a hero then Marshall Lee can see this letter through. _**"I don't know when my letter will get to you. But I have this feeling that you're okay over there and you'll read this one day. It's okay if you don't understand the stuff I did right now, Marcy. You will one day.**

**Please don't stay mad at me for what I did. Ooo is no place for a little girl, especially you. You're my family, Marcy. Best kid anyone could ever ask for. That's why I'd send you away to save you.**

**I'm sorry for all those times I was a jerkwad. Can you remember my good side instead?"** _Attached is a picture of child-Marceline and a blue-skinned bespectacled man. It's Ice Queen with a beard. The two of them make cross-eyed duck faces at the camera. _**"See what I did there? Haha again. I'll more write tomorrow when I feel better." **_Liar, Marceline says under her breath._

**"Tell your friends over there that bombs are bad.**

**With love always,**

**Simon"**

_They sit in a long silence. Marshall Lee twiddles his thumbs, waiting for Marceline to push him off._

_"Why did you hide this?" she asks. He's already thought the answer through._

_"So you don't leave."_

_"So you just want to have me," Marceline says, sounding seductive but her voice is different. He looks up at her face and it's much closer. It's much younger._

_Marceline is seven again. Her grin is more demon than human and her teeth gleam and what the fuck is going on because her voice is a nightmare when she says "Incestuous lying cradle-robbing lowlife fucker."_

_He wants to say _Marcy don't curse_ but her small hands are steel and she's melting into some Glob-forsaken darkness that swallows him whole—_

CRASH

Marshall Lee groans. He's a tangle of blankets and broken table lamp on the floor. This is the third guilt-trip nightmare he's had since Marceline left three days ago.

Oh my Glob just let this girl come home so he can freaking grovel.

Marshall Lee isn't superstitious (ironic since he's a mythical creature). But he knows this dream is yet another reminder that he _is_ an incestuous lying cradle-robbing lowlife fucker, and for all that it's pointless for Marceline to help almost-gone Simon he knows she would have tried because that's what people do when they love someone. He tried for Simone.

Then there's that thing where he's crazy about himself.

The last he heard, Marceline is staying at Candy Castle. If he leaves now he can catch her and Gumball having evening tea.

Marshall Lee is out the door with his axe bass.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

If he throws any more rocks at the balcony window, he's going to break it and Bubba will rage. Marshall Lee launches step 2 of Plan BigMeaningfulApology.

"I know you're there! Hear me out!" he flies up to the balustrade. This song is so terrible she'll have to come out of the guest room, just to kick him in the nads. Marshall Lee plays loudly on his axe bass.

"MARCELINE I THINK YOU'RE RAD

DON'T CARE IF PEOPLE SAY I'M YOUR DAD

I KNOW YOU WANNA BE MY BABY SO

LET ME LOVE YOU-HOOOO—"

Someone comes out, pink and three inches too tall.

"What are you doing?!" Gumball shouts.

"Not you, Marceline!" Marshall Lee snaps.

"She went back to your house already," Gumball says, looking pleased with himself. "You're welcome."

"Oh," Marshall Lee hangs his head. "Wanna hear the rest of my song?"

"It's terrible. And use the front door next time," Gumball retorts and shuts the windows.

This isn't how a serenade goes in movies. Marshall Lee has a half hour of flying back ahead of him and if Miss Thang doesn't stay put at home he's going to put a bad picture of her on milk cartons.

_Don't follow me_, Marceline had told him when she walked out.

Marshall Lee does what he wants.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

He gets back home in the evening. Marceline is on the deck, shooting into the basketball net repeatedly and looking bored. He plucks the ball out of the air to get her attention.

"I'm sorry," he says, fully intending to start the grovel process. What happens instead is they start playing one-on-one and Marceline isn't satisfied until she beats him thoroughly. Maybe she imagines the basketball is his face because she dunks it every time like it owes her money.

"I mostly stayed at Bubba's," Marceline says when she's out of breath. They sit at the edge of the deck and the ball rolls to some forgotten corner.

"I heard," Marshall Lee says, counting on adrenaline to put her in a good mood.

"I went to see Ice Queen first, though. She read me those gender-bent fanfics." Apparently he makes a face because Marceline frowns. "No really, it's like she dreams about Ooo and she doesn't even realize it. There's an _Ice King_ and a Finn and Jake and a Princess Bubblegum..."

Marshall Lee thinks of Gumball with breasts and plucked eyebrows and wishes he hadn't.

"All this time I had no idea," Marceline says, lost in thought. "But it all makes sense. How else are you so…"

"Understanding? Relatable?" he offers. "Unlike any other man you've ever known ever?"

"Really gives new meaning to 'fuck you', doesn't it?"

"Oh no she did not just go there," Marshall Lee mutters but she laughs. He might as well get to the point. "Now what?"

"I've been thinking," Marceline says. "I'll find a way to visit Ooo one day. Besides paddling." That's nice. The operative word is 'visit'. "And until then I hope Simon's happy, whatever he's doing as the Ice King." He thinks that's nice too, but there's something else important.

"And?"

"And as for us being… the same…" She stares at him. "I think we need some time apart."

He stares back. Seconds feel like hours because she's staring back, dead serious, while his brain slows to a halt. When Marshall Lee remembers to close his open jaw he knows the only thing to say is—

"Joke," Marceline says and he's going to strangle her. "Oh my Glob your face, you were totally gonna—"

"_I'm gonna kill you_," Marshall Lee gets up but she throws her arms around him.

"Don't cry, Marsh!"

"You suck!"

"Big baby!"

"Fuck you!"

"Already did!"

And then he's so blown away by how stupid they sound that he actually snickers. "You think you're funny?"

"Oh yeah," Marceline still has him in a firm side-hug. "You know why I came back so soon?"

Of course three days is 'soon'."Why?"

"Bubba and I had a roast about you earlier," she tells him. "We agreed that you're selfish and you have abandonment issues and your ego is the size of Fire Kingdom."

"I don't like this story."

"Then I realized I want you no matter what you do, so I went home. The end," Marceline concludes, and Marshall Lee thinks her logic is sound. He's in nirvana and relationship heaven and a deck in a cave, all at the same time.

"I'm sorry about Simon," he says, putting an arm around her waist.

"I'm sorry about Simone," she answers. It's a wonderful world when a guy and a girl can just like each other. He'll have to tell Fionna that she's right sometime.

He doesn't mean to but from the corner of his eye, Marshall Lee sees a gold ring. It lies in the grass of their yard, glinting faintly against the houselights. He remembers whose ring that is. He knows who would drop it there for only him to see.

But it's too soon to have another problem. Marshall Lee thinks he'll deal with it later; Marceline is telling him a Finn and Jake story.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

The moon is full and the vampire sits at the edge of the bridge. It takes a split second for Marshall Lee to sit beside him, axe bass casually in hand.

"What do you want?"

The vampire jumps around, startled. He eyes the bass. "Your Highness. That the great axe?"

"What do you want?" Marshall Lee repeats. He's only established one vampire law during his reign: Stay away from the king. This fool is fifty miles too close.

"Did you like my present?"

Marshall Lee tosses the ring. "It's trash."

"Aw. But it used to be on your ring finger," the vampire catches it deftly. "Don't you want to reminisce tonight?" Marshall Lee rolls his eyes. This conversation is over.

"She was so cute, waiting out there for you," the vampire smiles, and his teeth gleam. Marshall Lee keeps a poker face. "Didn't even notice me flying around. Remember how weak those half-demons are?"

"I'm going to burn your fucking coven," Marshall Lee says easily.

"I was just kidding." Actually why not just hack him right now? The vampire smiles again. "But you've gone soft, Marshall Lee."

Marshall Lee grips his axe bass tighter. The vampire flees. It might be that time again when things are too quiet in the underworld. Some ratchet coup d'état will happen and of course Marshall Lee will have to go around opening cans of whup-ass and burn-ass. But he'd rather make love not war with Marceline and play house with Gumball & Co.

He wonders if it's time to retire.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N: **I hope that letter was semi-plausible since I have plans for Ooo. /gg

Thanks for the feedback, I appreciate them all forreal. Feel free to critique/review!

* If you do know about GUT and I'm grossly wrong… sorry? Heh

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.


	16. Part II: Chocolate Legs

**Chocolate Legs**

For his (and her) birthday, Marceline bakes a cake. Marshall Lee thinks some women aren't meant for the kitchen, and his girlfriend is one of them.

"I could just eat you," he offers, but Marceline keeps him at bay with a spoon.

"You sit until I get this right," she insists. So he watches her across the kitchen counter. Marceline is covered in flour and sugar, that's how badly she's doing. There's a bead of sweat going down her long neck and even that frilly apron from Gumball looks good when she bends over to check why the oven is smoking. Marshall Lee is very much entertained by how she refuses to admit she fails at something. But after the second cake explodes he thinks they should go somewhere safer.

"To the bedroom!" he declares and lifts her over his shoulder.

"I don't wanna!" Marceline yelps but her pause gives her away.

"Oh yeah?"

She makes him drop her over the couch. Marshall Lee is fine with the living room, too.

"Not right now," Marceline says a little strangely. Something is up. "I mean, we don't have time."

"Time for _what_?"

Their clock strikes six and the lights go out.

"What the—!" Marshall Lee feels hands pulling his arms wide apart. There's hustling and ruckus going around the room and he's in disbelief. _Are they serious?_

"What's up, Cake?" he calls out to the 'mystery' perpetrator. The lights turn on with a _click!_ and he's surrounded by a familiar crowd. Everyone has a paddle.

"… I have night vision," he tries not to look too smug when he sees Fionna looking crestfallen.

"You're supposed to blindfold him!" Cake says to Marceline. Marshall Lee can see her take out her own paddle.

"_Birthday paddling_?" Marshall Lee scoffs, but Cake keeps him in an arm lock. "You guys know I'm like a thousand, right?"

"That's why we brought everyone," Gumball says. And from the looks of everyone closing in they just might have. There's Lumpy Space Prince and Peppermint Maid and Ice Queen and Cinnamon Bun and Wildberry Prince and Lord Mono and who's that dude in that back?

"I don't even know that guy!" Marshall Lee protests.

"SURPRISE," they all scream anyway and start paddling away.

It's a birthday custom but Marshall Lee may have offended each one of them, somewhere along the line.

The house in the cave isn't that big. But through some kind of five-minute sorcery it becomes party haven with bright décor and glaring lights. Marshall Lee is mildly impressed. He's even more so at the fact that a surprise party was half-successfully pulled under his nose.

"It's your birthday too," he says accusingly to Marceline amid blasting rock music. After a few hundred whacks the paddles start to sting.

"You could do mine yourself later," she grins as LSP pulls her away to dance.

Since he's forever nineteen, any birthday is like the rest. But Marceline only turns seventeen once so he doesn't bolt when Gumball puts pink birthday crowns over their heads and confetti is thrown everywhere and which genius thought to put balloon animals over the candles because _common sense_.

Marshall Lee is slightly touched; he makes sure to greet guests on their way out afterwards. But they should still know better than to come by and ask for a neighborly cup of sugar.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

He comes home one day to a smell of soul-sucking evil. Marshall Lee walks into the kitchen and there's Marceline having coffee with evil incarnate.

"_Mom_?"

"Boo-boo!" Hana Abadeer has his cheeks in her hands and does this woman know he's not five anymore?

"What are you doing here?" Marshall Lee hisses as he takes her aside. "Better yet _how_ are you here?"

"Friend of yours summoned me," his mother says but Marshall Lee knows there's more to the story than that. "You're so stubborn about coming home."

"Where are my fries? And don't even think about eating—"

"Hell's bollocks no, I like this one," she waves over to Marceline. "I had no idea Marshall. Your new girlfriend is so like you."

His mother has no idea indeed.

"She's not so bad," Marceline says later when they see her off to the Night-O-Sphere via portal. "She tries pretty hard for you."

"That she does," Marshall Lee admits. But then again she left them with a contraceptives basket.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Guys' Night Out happens every few weeks or so. Tonight, LSP drags Marshall Lee and Gumball to an open mic bar. But even drinks and dim lights can't help the fact that this Talent Night is lackluster.

"Why are we here again?" Marshall Lee watches the band onstage take a bow. It's tempting to jack the microphone himself.

"Steal my show and I'll cut you," LSP says and leaves their table for center stage. He cues soft music and spotlights. So that's why he's dressed like a hipster tonight. "Wassup you guys. I'm here to share my new passion and this poem is called _Hot Sauce_."

_Hot Sauce_ is self-referential. Marshall Lee is dead from silent laughter by the third stanza. "At least he can throw a party. Oh Grod."

"Does Marceline know you're out drinking tonight?" Gumball asks casually.

A silly question. "My lady trusts me."

"Good because your ex is here."

He wants to ask _Which one_ but that's a silly question too when he turns around and comes face to chest with Ashley, all five black-clad skin-tight feet of her. Witches age fairly well; she looks as when he saw her last.

"Buy you a drink?" she drags him away and Marshall Lee finds himself looking forward to how this encounter will go. Ashley is a pro at hair-flipping and she does it now as they stand by the bar.

"So I hear you're dating that kid," she peers over her cocktail glass. Marshall Lee holds his and smirks. "What is she now, twelve?"

He laughs. "What's up, Ashley? You jelly?"

"As if," she says. He knows she's like him in one aspect: they both do things, just to see if they can. "I'll get to the point. When you're ready for a _woman_ again, call me."

There was a time when Marshall Lee couldn't get enough of her.

"Did you let my mom out so she'd eat my girlfriend?"

Ashley isn't abashed. He didn't expect otherwise. "You're going to make her immortal, aren't you?"

Whether he does or not is besides the point.

"Pull something like that again, Ash," Marshall Lee says.

"Or what?" she rolls her eyes. He gives her that smirk again, the one that gets under her skin. He leans towards her and whispers in her ear; dirty talk used to be their kind of thing.

"You're a dick," Ashley snaps and leaves him standing. Marshall Lee goes back to Gumball, taking the drink with him.

"What did you say to that poor girl?" Gumball raises an eyebrow. LSP is nearing the end of _Hot Sauce_ and moving dozens to tears. Marshall Lee shrugs.

"I said I'd kill her favorite hairdresser."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

He wraps his arms around Marceline's waist.

"Stay," Marshall Lee whines.

"Unhand me," Marceline says. "I'm a bridesmaid." She's been secretly excited to be one for weeks. It seems like they haven't been together in just as long because of nuptials frenzy. Therefore, Marshall Lee feels justified in making out behind the stairs. He's thoughtful enough not to ruin her hair or grind so hard that she moans but she pulls away anyway.

"I'll hold out on you too, when Bubba gets married," he threatens. Marceline eyes him wistfully.

"Oh, he won't."

Marshall Lee's grip slackens because there's something ironic that he doesn't know. There's _never_ something about Gumball that he doesn't know. "Wha..?"

Fionna's voice calls below and Marceline slips through his fingers with a peck. She leaves him alone in their old living room and he takes a moment to reminisce. This tree fort is where unlikely life with Marceline began.

It's a sunny day for a wedding outside, so Marshall Lee wears a sunhat (it goes splendidly with his vest). He's the wedding singer, after all. Fionna glows and so does Cake in a white dress with flowers in her (cat?) hair. Marceline would look great in a dish rag and she looks great in the purple bridesmaid dress now. Monochromicorn wears a white bowtie and Gumball tries not to but he sniffs more than the rest of friends and family combined. The ceremony is touching, really. Something about cats and monochromicorns overcoming mortal differences with _love_ and vowing 'til Comic Owl does them part.

He's seen many a wedding but never a happily ever after. There's always that thing called dying at the end. He wishes them well anyway.

"_Baby come take my soul and set me free_," Marshall Lee sings but for once Cake doesn't care that he's singing about chocolate legs; she's slow-dancing with her new hubby. He thinks he'll miss her sass a little when wifey status turns her into a homebody.

The reception lasts into the night and ends in fireworks. Marshall Lee reaches an epiphany then.

"Hey," he says to Marceline, when they're alone at last.

"Yeah?"

She looks unreal tonight. Marshall Lee wants to put her someplace where nothing can touch her. Not time or illness or haters who won't quit, just him.

"Wanna go somewhere?"

"Yeah."

Heaven doesn't exist but they can make their own for a little while.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** Gasp. What's up with Gumball? And where are M&M going? (Or that could just be a sex reference, lul)

Part II ends here. It's exam season for me though so writing is slow these days. QQ

Thanks to everyone reading/reviewing! Crits always welcome.

**Disclaimer:** AT comes from Pen Ward's womb.


	17. Sidestory: Map of Your Head

**Map of Your Head**

* * *

_When he was seven:_

* * *

Gentle hands pick him up. He doesn't want to be carried but if they run at his pace they'll both be dead.

"My turn when you're big, Marshall," she tells him. With a smile, always with a smile, even when stress lines cut into her brow and post-apocalyptic creatures lumber behind them. There is no life before her and The Explosion; trying to remember is like thinking of a forgotten dream. All he knows now is the need to run for your life, no shoes or nothin'.

He trusts her completely. If only she'd stop wearing that crown.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_When he was sixteen:_

* * *

He survives, long after _she_ is no longer with him.

Marshall Lee is good-looking. Perhaps that's why demons and monsters and fairytale creatures that are coming out of the earth coddle him so much. Pretty things are hard to come by these days. Marshall Lee has also discovered that he's good at the guitar. Singing, too. That's when they stop trying to eat him and start fawning instead.

He busks for a few years, then goes band-hopping for a few more. Everyone loves that one half-demon bassist with the killer smile. Rumor has it, after all, that he's prince of the Night-O-Sphere, if anyone ever manages to open the barriers to that place.

Somewhere along growing up in the post-Apocalypse, Marshall Lee realizes he _loves_ making music, and not just because it's a living. He thinks it's the only thing worth caring for.

The girls come, one after the other. They like how he's the weakest thing on earth yet has the swagger of an archdemon. He lets the very pretty ones play around with him because it's really the other way around. Mushroom War or no, everyone swoons over a musician.

One night after a gig with Death and the Horsemen, he meets _her_.

"Let me have you," she says as she pushes him against the wall in a back alley. Marshall Lee has met her kind before, the kind that likes to own a novelty. But there's something about this girl. Her eyes are bright. They're red. He's seen beautiful before, but she's a different breed of dangerous in black leather and stilettos.

"I like what you're about," she says.

Another one who thinks she understands him. The smirk growing on Marshall Lee's face isn't just flirtation, it's habit.

"And what would that be?" He leans back. Of course she'll lean closer. They all do. In the half-darkness her teeth gleam.

It may be the masochist in him, but Marshall Lee likes that she begs for him, even though she's so high-strung such a thing should be beneath her. Evidently not _too_ high strung, he later finds out. His touch is a drug she's greedy to inhale, swallow, have.

She goes in and out of his life for the next three years, hating that she wants him and loving that he's so fickle. He knows what she is and what she does for fun.

Marshall Lee likes playing with fire.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_When he was nineteen:_

* * *

He expects that she'll tire of their cat-and-mouse chase. And then one night, he slips away from her bed one too many times.

She has him on the floor and she's strong enough to keep him there. For once in his life, Marshall Lee suddenly feels fucked. Did he not expect this at all?

Perhaps not so soon.

Her teeth sink into his neck. This is more agony than skin set on fire, more intimate than making her toes curl. If she wasn't killing him right now he'd appreciate the irony of finally getting bit after dangling himself like a carrot for years. He struggles, but he's only a man. She's the Vampire Queen.

Just as his heart is about to give out, there's a new rush going through his veins. She's changing him.

He curses at her; he's no one's toy. But she has him drunk on his blood and hers and he's seeing red. She doesn't care that he screams out from pain because now she can beat him down and he won't break. Marshall Lee doesn't remember how long she keeps him in hell. But he knows she's dragging this out because she likes to see him damn her yet grovel at her feet, begging her to fucking end it already.

"Let me have you," her pretty mouth whispers one more time. Her fingers raise his head and trace blood going down his throat. He's tired of this game; she's already taken his soul, what's the use of denying her the pleasure of that one word?Holy shit it hurts to breathe or even be alive but Marshall Lee opens his eyes to look her in the face. She wins.

"Yes."

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_Ten years later:_

* * *

It's a dream, a long-lasting delusion. She drags him down into depravity with her and he loves it, the whole way down. Or maybe lust is the better word. He wants nothing but indulgence. They go about it for years, the Vampire King and Queen, killing maiming destroying their subjects as they please. They go through every sin, one by one over and over.

Then one day Marshall Lee wakes up.

He drives the hilt through her heart. It's as good as any stake and especially fitting; it's the axe she stole from his mother long ago. As suddenly as she turned on him, so does he on her. He watches her watch him watch her die.

"I love you." Her eyes glitter. She's twisted to the end but she'll go alone to the grave. He'll walk out of here and forget her.

Did he ever love her?

Doesn't matter because she tried to make him her groveling bitch-dog.

"Too bad for you," He tells her. He stares down her beautiful face until it goes still. Marshall Lee hasn't touched a guitar in years and that's what he mostly begrudges her for as he piles pieces of her body out for the sun to burn. He throws his 'wedding' ring over a river somewhere.

Marshall Lee leaves the coven. But not before he sets fire to it and everything inside. He watches it for a few hours until it burns to the ground.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_Ninety years later:_

* * *

Marshall Lee doesn't turn into an overnight crusader. He spends decades seething with hate for demon kind.

He goes through phases. Solitary vampire, then war-happy dictator, then evil dastard overall. And then after the first century, he's done playing Vampire King and establishes Golden Vampire Rule: Stay away from the king. Everyone loves him again, after that.

At first it's exhilarating to know you have forever to just be yourself and do whatever the hell you want. But eventually he comes to terms with the fact that eternal life is a letdown when there's nothing to live for.

He'd go to Simone for advice but all she wants to do these days is hunt for princes to marry.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_Four hundred years later:_

* * *

He watches the earth go from ruins to sprawling civilizations to bright cities once more.

He learns a bit of everything under the sun, courtesy of a crate of _for Dummies_ books.

Marshall Lee has also heard about these things called love and friendship and fuzzy feelings of belonging in a tight-knit group. He's a charming guy and those bonds, though they take time, aren't hard to make. They're pretty great, actually.

Thing is, everyone keeps dying on him.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_Nine hundred eighty-something years later:_

* * *

He still goes to that part of Aaa sometimes, where ruins still remain. One day he finds Hambo again and somehow the world is a little brighter because things that are lost _can_ be found, apparently. He still gets that warm feeling when he holds the bear. Marshall Lee thinks nothing will last but if this stupid irreplaceable priceless toy is his again forever that's okay.

So when Ashley sells Hambo for a dumbass magic wand he kicks her out, even if she's a really good lay.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

_Nine hundred ninety-something years later:_

* * *

Marshall Lee has his music and his hobbies and he even has friends again these days (namely a pink prepubescent prince). But as with everything else, he knows this won't last. Simone – Ice Queen—is so lost now that she's not hurt watching her princes and her penguins die every generation. They're all Benny and Gertrude to her anyway. Life goes on, always.

Lately Marshall Lee has taken up backpacking. Maybe he'll go into astronomy next.

Then he sees a raft on the ocean below.

** \/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** Dat thousand-year Marshall Lee life.

Part III is the last one and since ending happily ever after is the easy way out... I plan for more cliffhangers.

Thanks for reading! Go ahead and critique! :]

PS: if you get that Sweet Brown reference, hats off to you.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.


	18. Part III: Baby I Love Your Way

**Baby I Love Your Way**

Marshall Lee has no expectations on how long this idea will last. But they take this spur-of-the-moment band thing and roll with it.

_Salty Hippo_ tours all over creation for the next year or so (he's not exactly sure how long, but who's counting when you're high on rock god status with your equally rocker girlfriend?). Their gigs happen anytime, anywhere, mainly because neither of them feels like making a schedule. They gain a steady cult following anyway because Marshall Lee and Marceline are just that good on a stage, in a bar, or out in the squares of Lumpy Space. At some point Party God has them deejay a party up in the clouds to see if radical high-energy sound waves can start a monsoon.

Apparently you _can_ party up a storm.

Making music together is all kinds of righteous, Marshall Lee with his axe bass and Marceline with her butterfly guitar. Time stands still. Then one night after an especially sick-nasty show in Lemongrab, Marceline takes him freighthopping on a cargo train bound for Candy Kingdom. _Salty Hippo_ goes on hiatus.

"I'm not homesick. Just FYI," Marshall Lee tells her, a little defensively.

"_I've got demon eyes, they see right through your anatomy_," Marceline imitates his eye-glowing trick but alas, she's not that in touch with her demon side. "Seriously though. Lately you talk to Schwabl in your sleep."

"I just realized he doesn't like me. Why doesn't he like me? Everyone likes me."

"And don't get me started on Fionna and Gumball—"

"I'd rather rock out with you," he says and it's the truth.

"I know," Marceline leans against his shoulder. The boxcar they're in is wide open, full of hay; one thing to do is sit and watch stars go by.

"So. Why does the moon look like it's following us?" she asks.

Marshall Lee has read _Astrology for Dummies_.

Marceline yawns halfway through a heated discussion about the origins of _Rocket Man*_. She gets more easily tired lately.

"Keep me up?" Marshall Lee suggests though she never really turns him down.

They've been together two years and he likes how she gasps when he takes her breath away, as if it's still surprising that he's just that good at, well, all tiers. He likes how she bites into his shoulder trying not to be too loud but bodies do the talking and giving in is inevitable anyway. It's cute how she periodically tries to top and sometimes he just has to let her have her wicked way with him because this part of their relationship goes both ways, sideways, all the ways. He eases her down onto straw with his knee between her thighs. Their fingers intertwine, and Hambo and their guitars lie nearby bearing witness for the millionth time, thank Glob they can't talk. But then Marceline breaks their kiss to say

"Not tonight?"

Maybe she's not into freaking on a haystack.

"I think I'm coming down with something," she says a little regretfully. Marshall Lee wants to make puns about 'coming' and 'down' because it's not like cold and flu ever stopped them before. Apparently Marceline is serious this time because she goes for the cuddle instead of the sex.

"Okay," he concedes. "But don't blame me if I start moaning _Bubba_."

"Hmm," Marceline smiles like a pervert with her eyes closed. He can feel her mind radiate imagination rays about him and Gumball – _gasp_—holding hands or whatever. But everything is alright with the world since Marceline lies beside him with her head on his chest and her arms around his waist. The train chugs steadily; he nods off.

If Gumball makes another _whipped_ joke in his dreams Marshall Lee will tie-dye his favorite apron.

Back in real life hands creep under his shirt.

"What was that?"

Marshall Lee wakes up to Marceline leaning over him and looking amused.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"You actually did it. You actually _moaned_ about Bubba and apron strings," she accuses. "What the fudge, man?"

"Ahaha… so funny story," Marshall Lee starts to explain, but she'd rather kiss and unbuckle his belt instead. He doesn't need to be reminded that she's number one and only but he won't complain when she's straddling him. Funny how she's not jealous when fangirls toss clothes at him but she won't stand for lucid dreams.

"But you're sick."

"Shut up."

Marceline has no problem with haystacks after all.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"Thanks for dogsitting," Marshall Lee tells Fionna and Cake in the morning at their living room.

"Yeah Schwabl was no problem at all," Fionna answers. "Cuz, y'know, he's dead."

"Don't listen to her," he says to the zombie poodle at his feet.

"Your dog is so dead, he's _un_-dead," Flame Prince jokes.

"Why is your fire elemental boyfriend in a _tree_ house again?" Marshall Lee gives Fionna the eyeroll as she cracks up.

"Flamba spit on me," Flame Prince explains. He's a relatively harmless shade of blue flames today. "Neat, huh?"

"Now you can play BMO with me!" Fionna takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch.

"Now _you_ can babysit all my chillun," Cake tells Marshall Lee, toddler yogurt in her hands. Motherhood hasn't softened her; she still upholds iron justice with Fionna at the tree fort instead of settling down with her baby daddy.

"All of them?"

"All five."

Marshall Lee thinks _yeah right_ but Marceline sits on the floor to bask in kitty-corn baby cuteness.

"I want one," she declares with four babelings in her arms and the really fat one chilling on her head.

"We can make some," Marshall Lee puts on his lecher-face. "Might be six-fingered babies though."

"Ugh no, what if they imprint and grow super fast?"

"Stop it with those stories!"

"Stop it with the innuendos!"

"_Don't give them ideas_," Cake hisses, glancing at Fionna and Flame Prince.

"I heard that!" BMO says from the coffee table.

"Heard what?" Fionna and Flame Prince turn around.

"OH GOOD YOU'RE BACK!" Ice Queen cries out as she crashes through a window in a flurry of ice and snow.

"Ice Queen!" everyone jumps to their feet.

"It's called a door," Marshall Lee says dryly because this tree house is still his project child, after all.

"Flame Prince is a minor, woman," Cake says as Fionna steps in front of Flame Prince protectively.

"I know," Ice Queen sighs dejectedly for a moment. Then she takes Marceline's hands. "You gotta help me. I have such a huge writer's block."

"Huh?" Marceline looks confused. "But your fanfics are so good."

"Isn't it?"

"And your Imagination Zone is wicked vivid."

"Tell me about it," Fionna and Cake mutter.

"That's the thing!" Ice Queen's distress is written as stress lines on her brow. For a moment Marshall Lee is reminded of Simone running for safety with him in her arms. "My Imagination Zone is wrecked! No inspiration."

"Wait, what?" Marshall Lee is stumped now too because her Imagination Zone is the ultimate fantasy trip. Sans tomatoes.

Ice Queen pushes Fionna and Flame Prince away from the couch and makes herself at home. "It all started a few months ago when I was writing about Finn and Jake and the Lich…"

Fifteen minutes later Marshall Lee finds himself awake again in time for the ending, while the women express their deepest concerns.

"… and that's how Ooo is dead!" Ice Queen concludes. "A sistah can't see nothin' anymore, it's all just a bunch of evil creatures running around in ruins and Lich King going ham on the world. You guys wanna see?"

"No!" everyone says except for Flame Prince who mutters a small curious _yes_.

"Just make up your own stuff," Marshall Lee suggests.

"But that _is_ her stuff, weren't you listening?" Cake says seriously.

"Never thought I'd say this but I feel for you, Ice Queen," Fionna pats Ice Queen's white hair and shakes her head. "I'd hate to lose my imagination."

"How do we help you?" BMO asks somewhere down on the floor with the kittens. Ice Queen's face lights up. In Marshall Lee's direction.

_Oh he-ell no._

"Pleeeease, Marshall Lee?" Ice Queen wheedles. "I'm just gonna watch you guys, you know, get some real-life inspiration going again. Starting with you and Marcy."

He's not going to call out Marceline's love of fanfiction in front of everyone. But he knows she'll be upset if Finn and Jake stay perilously in limbo in the current plotline. And the way Fionna and Cake look right now they just might secretly read that stuff too. Dare he question Ice Queen's logic?

"… Okay," he says. "When do you—"

Ice Queen pulls out pen and paper from her eyebrows. "My body is ready."

"Wicked," Flame Prince exclaims.

"I'm _so_ happy you guys," Ice Queen claps ecstatically. "I can shadow you next, Fionna, then we'll do Cake…"

"Hurray, problem solved," Cake pulls out the yogurt again. "Can we feed my kids now or what?"

Marceline takes a whiff of strawberry-banana yogurt and turns green.

"Excuse me," she runs for the bathroom.

"You okay?" Marshall Lee calls out and gets ignored.

"Plot twist! Marceline hates dairy?" Ice Queen says as she scribbles. It's going to be a long day.

"Hey this tastes pretty good," Fionna exclaims, tasting from Cake Jr.'s cup.

"What's up with Marceline?" Cake wonders. Over sounds of eating and loud writing, Marshall Lee can faintly hear vomiting in the bathroom. Cake catches his eye and he knows she hears it, too. The last time he tried follow Marceline she threw a soap bar at him.

"She might be catching something," Marshall Lee says. "Should I worry?"

"She's sensitive to smells lately?"

"I guess."

"Hmm," Cake says and gears turn visibly in her mind. "Headaches? Tiredness?"

"I guess."

Hmm," she says again but doesn't share anything more. She gives him a look, though. Marceline comes back looking normal, which in Marshall Lee's opinion is fabulous. One thing they could do is head home and play doctor but then again, Ice Queen has her arms around both their shoulders.

"So," she says with a grin. "Watcha lovebirds doing today?"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Aaa hasn't changed much, and it seems neither have they. Marceline still likes to crash his room even if hers has more pillows, more candles, and Hambo. Every couple needs space; she doesn't care when he goes off by himself and vice versa – but that golden rule doesn't apply when they're in the house in the cave under the bridge. He thinks nothing beats waking up to something warm and familiar by your side.

"_Marshall Lee has his arms around Marceline with a happy smile on his face_…"

It has to be afternoon now. He opens his eyes blearily. It's that voice and that scratching and it's coming from the foot of the bed. They've been hounded by it the past few days.

"_They sleep blissfully like the cutest pair of twins you ever did see_…"

Marceline stirs. "Ice Queen..?"

"_Their limbs are perfectly entwined_ – morning sweetheart—_like branches in a tree or twigs caught on a vine_*…"

"What. The. Night-O-Sphere." Marshall Lee throws a pillow in Ice Queen's direction. "_Get out, _Simone!"

"But my material!" she protests. Her notes are a book thick. "You really should lock your doors, though."

They forgot to lock doors for a good reason. Marshall Lee groans. "Can you just finish already?"

"She's like your mom," Marceline whispers, propping herself up on elbows. He won't argue with that – his mother would watch over them in bed like a grand voyeur too, cheering about climax. The thought is disturbing.

"_His voice croaks handsomely as he calls out, 'Marceline'_—"

"What is this, a porno?!"

"Almost done, I swear!"

"I feel violated!"

Marceline buries her face into the covers, snorting from laughter. But then she stops and quickly says something about the bathroom. That's where she heads, closing the door behind her.

"Three days in a row, huh?" Ice Queen stares in her wake.

"Don't write about that," Marshall Lee comments, just in case.

"I'm serious, Marshall." Ice Queen says. She's Simone when she looks at him like he's a truant seven-year-old again. It hurts a little; these moments of lucidity are always fleeting. "Marceline needs to get that morning sickness checked out."

Marshall Lee stares back. The words take a moment to sink in.

"Are you going to float around shirtless for a while because I can work with that too," Ice Queen takes her pen from behind her ear and poises to write again. Marshall Lee throws back the bed covers and leaves her alone in the room. He has a phone call to make.

"Holla for a dolla!" A certain cat picks up the other line. How fortunate that Fionna is dating more than adventuring these days.

"Cake," Marshall Lee says. "I need to talk to you." He tells her about the past few days, past few weeks.

"You see, when a man and a woman love each other," she replies and he's willing to let her joke as long as she gives him her two cents. She does. "I didn't want to freak you out but just maybe…"

Marshall Lee sits on the kitchen floor with the phone in his hand, long after Cake hangs up. Marceline finds him there. She's just out of the shower and he can smell his shampoo on her five feet away. She's wearing jeans and that grey tank top. Oh Glob, he loves her. Oh Glob, he's not sure what to think right now if maybe, just maybe.

"Marsh?" she approaches. He pulls her down by the hand until they're looking eye to identical eye.

"Marcy…"

He swallows.

"Are you pregnant?"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N**: Say whaat.

Thanks to everyone reading/reviewing!

* Song references. I'm always referencing something lol.

**Disclaimer**: AT isn't mine.


	19. Part III: Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

**Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds**

"Oh for the love of—" Gumball swats him with the sweater he's knitting. "Would you _stop_?"

Marshall Lee can't help the idiot grin on his face, it keeps coming back. He can't help the foot-tapping and the finger-drumming either. Apparently two hours of that is what it takes to flip Gumball's lid.

"But what if _babies_," he insists. They're on a bench outside the royal clinic. Marceline could come out with a stomach virus or…..

Marshall Lee zones out to a land of diapers and breast milk and pale flying children.

"You're drifting," Gumball pulls him back down to earth by the pants leg. "Why are you so freaked, anyway? We don't know for certain yet."

"I'm _undead,_ Bubba." Marshall Lee says. "Vampires can't have kids."

Or can they?

Unless Marceline fooled around?

Or immaculate conception?

Baby Jesus?

"How long does it take to do a damn physical!" he deflates into the bench. But in all seriousness, it's been hours. Gumball watches him, amused, still knitting.

"Can I be the godfather?"

"Don't joke with me, man."

"Marshall Jr. can have this sweater."

"…"

"Imagine being called daddy in a non-sexual way."

They engage in arm's length slap war when Doctor Donut opens the door.

"Marshall Lee? You're gonna want to hear this," she says. Suddenly he encounters this foreign sensation called _nerves_. It fastens his feet to the floor.

He gulps but Gumball shoves him forward.

"You're a big boy," the prince says, half-assuring and half-sarcastic.

Marshall Lee goes inside. Marceline sits on the examination table, feet swinging. She lights up at the sight of him. He takes her hand and her pulse is going a mile a minute. It's just them, Donut, and buzzing medical apparatuses in that very silent very white room.

"Marceline, remember your first visit here?" Donut asks. "Eleven years ago?"

"Yeah," Marceline throws Marshall Lee a smirk.

"And you've been pretty healthy ever since?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really sorry to have to say this but… we found something and it's not good."

Doctor Donut must be really shitty at delivering baby news.

"Radiation exposure is catching up to your body."

They stare at her.

"I'm not sure why effects took this long to show," the doctor explains. She hands Marceline her clipboard, but doctors' notes are illegible in general. "Might be because of your demon heritage. Either way, we found leukocyte build-up that weakens your immune syst—"

"So I'm not pregnant?" Marceline interrupts.

"No, but—"

"What are you saying Doc?" Marshall Lee stares at statistics and data on Donut's notes but it's not like smart medical science stuff means anything to him.

"I'm saying Marceline has developed cancer."

It takes several moments but then he thinks _No fecking way_.

"You're kidding."

"I'm afraid not, Marshall Lee."

He might be gripping Marceline's hand too tight but when he looks down no, it's her doing. Marceline's eyes are glassy. The exhilarating nervousness of minutes ago is gone. Something else weighs him down like a millstone around the neck.

"When you said you don't have…" Marshall Lee trails off. His voice is strangely calm.

"Humans didn't then, and we don't now," Donut says gently.

"There has to be."

"I'm really sorry you guys."

If only he can shake Donut upside down 'til a magical cure drops from her pocket.

"How long?" Marceline comes out of her daze. "Don't sugarcoat. Pun intended."

"Everyone has it different," Donut pats her knee. "Candy people are… made out of candy so a few months for them, but I recommend you take it easy and get checkups periodically and we'll do our best."

"Well, shit," Marceline buries her face in her other hand.

"Hey," Marshall Lee drapes an arm around her shoulders.

What do you say at a time like this?

"I'll give you guys a moment," Donut says and she leaves them to cry and hug it out and whatever else people do with this kind of news. But Marshall Lee can't rage if Marceline just sits there, dumbstruck.

"Plot twist, huh?" Marceline whispers. She hugs him like a drowning man a spar. Her bangs hide half of her face but Marshall Lee can see her bite her lip. "I'd rather have your beautiful six-toed baby."

Marshall Lee doesn't want to go into the what-ifs, but he admits, "Me too."

Marceline says nothing else so they sit in silence for a while. He wonders how they should go about this new crisis but it's much less tiring to stay in denial. Donut's revelation gets more real every passing second, though. It turns into a metaphorical elephant in the room.

"Talk to me," he says eventually.

"I don't wanna go home," Marceline declares. Her arms are still around his waist. "I'll cry like a little bitch."

"You'd feel better."

"But that makes it real, man. What do I tell everyone? What do I do with my life?"

Marshall Lee means it when he says "There are ways out of this, Mar."

She laughs. "I don't feel like adventuring for cures tonight."

"What _do_ you feel like?"

_Like I'm not dying_ is the obvious answer. She looks up at him. "Let's go see that dude. The really shady one."

"You mean..?" Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow.

"Yolo, right?" Marceline grins wryly.

"Not funny."

But she knows he'll give in. No substance is going to fix her but Marshall Lee never really says no to Marceline.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

The really shady dude is a tomato* farmer. Tonight is a perfectly good night to get high.

They lie deep in the Grass Lands (har har) where the only thing to see for miles around is the grass and the sky. Marshall Lee isn't a junkie, he just happens to know who grows the really good Brandywine. He chews on one thoughtfully; the millstone and the elephant are gone, for now. He and Marceline should just stay in this state of synesthesia for a year and argue about fifth wall.

"But you'd be dead then," he mumbles.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What are you thinking?" Marceline rolls to her stomach. Her eyes sparkle. He likes how he's so especially attuned to her right now that every little thing she does is magic.

"… I really want shooting stars," Marshall Lee wipes a hand across the panorama. Nothing happens. He needs another tomato. Then bright lights streak across the sky, continuously. They're flambits. When he squints the universe is a kaleidoscope. Planets with a jillion rings look like they're doing synchronized swimming and that's highly illogical but not when you're on tomato high.

Marceline tugs on his sleeve and points. "Look. LSP is the Man on the Moon."

"Ugh. That's his bad side."

"Could be the light."

"Are we having the same mind-trip?" Marshall Lee stares at her. She grins.

"Cool," they agree.

Wait but he was thinking about something else.

"Marceline," he sits up suddenly. The world spins. But they're too lucid for earth now anyway. She looks at him because she's only _Marceline _when they real-talk or bang; Marshall Lee clears his throat.

"I've watched you grow from a little girl into this supermegafoxyawesomehot babe," he says. Her mouth twitches, trying not to make a short-eyes comment. Yeah, Marshall Lee is sure about asking. "I really wanna just follow you around everywhere singing Marvin Gaye but you'd hate that." She wants to say something and he lifts a hand to shush her lips. He misses and it lands on her chest. "Did I ever tell you you're like, ridiculously hot?"

"Wassup, Marshall?" She smiles. "I'm not dying tonight."

"I won't let you. Like, ever." Marshall Lee should wait until they come down from this stratosphere-level high but he just really really really really wants to know her answer right now.

"You're still touching my boob."

"Oh. It's really nice." Then getting to the point he asks, "Do you want to be with me?"

Marceline freezes, a little stunned. "Are you… proposing?"

He laughs. "Well actually—"

There's a rushing sound and a strong wind. Golden wings beat loudly above them.

Cosmic Owl.

Marshall Lee has seen the large creature in hallucinations before, but never this close.

"Is that..? " Marceline waves. "Hey man!" The owl looks at them, surprised. He/she/it nods in passing. But then Marceline calls out, "Want some tomatoes?"

And that's how things turn into a chill session with Cosmic Owl. Marshall Lee is vaguely aware that they're all on their backs making an acute triangle of dopeness with the tomato bag in the middle. The sky is an ongoing Fantasia 2000 show.

"Water is like, snowman blood."

"My Glob. It's everywhere."

"_The_ _world_ is everywhere."

Marshall Lee sighs. "That was beautiful."

"_Y'all_ are beautiful," Cosmic Owl hoots. "These other couples man, Ah can't even go near 'em they're so cuddly."

"You should screw with them," Marceline eats her tenth tomato. "Like give them croak dreams, except they're really bad rom-coms."

"Hoo-hoo. You're a sociopath."

"Heh. Thanks."

"Lemme tell y'all 'bout this old fool I ran into. Called me a nerd and errthang."

When the tomatoes are gone Marshall Lee is almost genuinely sad for the vision to fly away.

"Naw, we're all gonna run into each other again," the owl tells him. "This is all one big hallucination anyway. Hoooo."

"Is this real then?" Marshall Lee wonders.

"Are _we_ real?" Marceline adds.

"Is anythang real?" Cosmic Owl says and they all sigh deeply.

"Keep it real," the three of them share collective bro-pounds. Cosmic Owl will go back to visiting this dude Prismo-something-or-other , and Marshall and Marceline will lie back down and wait to come back down to earth. C'est la vie.

Cosmic Owl flies off the ground and he's not even flapping the right way anymore but freak that because he's a deity. They wave him off and he pauses before flying away. "Hey so listen, I like you two. So I'ma give y'all a head's up."

"Yeah man?" Marshall Lee has an arm around Marceline because she can feel her organs working and that makes her sad. There's some kind of problem waiting back in real life but putting it off is worth it. Tonight was a good night to get high.

"Marceline…"

Cosmic Owl's white eyes narrow.

"You're gonna get sent back to your world."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** Say whaat. Recap:

1) Marceline has cancer. (dick move I know but I have my reasons)

2) Marshall Lee proposed… something. It's not hard to figure out haha.

3) Crikey I think that last line hints at something.

No regrets on trolling with the pregnancy because cliffs for the win. If it seems a lot of shit is going down and you're getting lost well I'm not done, /gg. Lemme know what you think!

MAJOR THANKS to everyone who took time to review last chapter, whether you always do or don't usually. I appreciate each one forreal. cody murphy your reviews are killer, man. Lawl.

* Marceline and therefore Marshall Lee get lucid dreams when eating tomatoes. It's on the wiki, must be true. I don't advertise actual highs or anything and for all you know they may just be enjoying a healthy snack in this chapter. Happy Bob Marley Day praised be his dreads.


	20. Part III: Suit & Tie

**Suit & Tie**

Marceline kicks him out of the house because (in her words) she'll never get pimped out for the ball if they keep undressing. So naturally, Marshall Lee flies over to Candy Castle.

He steps into the royal kitchens. It's a labyrinth of maids and confection; Gumball is going all out for tonight's Biennial Gumball Ball.

"Oh my Grod you're so gay and you don't even like boys."

"Shut up!" Gumball's voice is somewhere over by the ovens. Marshall Lee finds him icing a cake tower with great care.

"Guess what guess what," he floats in circles but Gumball keeps focused. Eh, might as well eat. "Me and Marcy had the craziest trip last night, we went to the tomato guy—"

"Don't eat those!" Gumball snatches the tray of red velvet cupcakes from his hands.

"They're my favorite!"

"They're for Marceline!"

Marshall Lee takes a second look at the cupcakes. They spell out _I'M HERE FOR YOU_. Gumball is reproachful in his royal apron and his royal hairnet.

"When were you guys going to tell me?" he asks quietly.

_Oh. Whoops._

"I was right outside, Marshall Lee. I waited for you. I had to hear it from Doctor Donut," Gumball says. "Did you really have to run off first thing and get _high_?"

"Sorry," Marshall Lee says a little guiltily.

"I care about her too you know."

"_Sorry_."

Marshall Lee has so many struggles to whine about, _Oh Grod Bubba don't be hurt now I need you_. But actually now that he thinks about it, ditching Gumball was kind of a dick move.

"Prince Gumball!" Peppermint Maid calls out. "The iced ice baby sculptures are here!"

"No, I'm sorry," Gumball sighs and hands him the tray. "Please go. I'm really busy."

Marshall Lee stares at this strange over-stressed creature that he's never seen before, not in ten-odd years of bro-ship and certainly not in this kitchen Gumball calls paradise. Usually the prince shoots sunshine out the butt but today there's a stick jammed up in there. Marshall Lee knows just how to pull that out, he watches talk shows.

"You're such a bitch, man."

"Excuse me?" Gumball turns back, highly affronted.

Marshall Lee scowls. "Just say it, Bubba. Get it off your waxed chest."

"Oh my Glob what is this miracle," Gumball scowls back. "_Marshall Lee_ is asking how I am for a change?"

"Cheeses. It's like talking to a teenage girl," he rolls his eyes.

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?"

Marshall Lee stares at Gumball curiously.

"Bubba. Do you like..?"

"Oh Glob no. I didn't mean that," the prince says quickly, regretfully. Regret turns to outrage when Marshall Lee splatters a cupcake on his apron and the rest now spell _I'M HER FOR YOU_.

"You caveman!" Gumball throws a spice bottle and misses by a mile.

"You fairy!"

"Get out!"

"Make me!"

"Prince Gumball, stop!" candy maids run for cover as bonbons fly.

"My friend has cancer and you get her high!"

"This is why no one tells you these things!"

"You don't tell me anything! You just leave!"

"Okay now punch me!"

"_What_?" Gumball blinks. Marshall Lee has much better aim and delicacies thrown all over the floor are mostly Gumball's doing. The prince laughs incredulously. "What psychotherapy foolishness are you trying to pull?"

"ETT," Marshall Lee admits. "I saw it on _Tyra*_."

"Some shows get cancelled for a reason. Fool."

"I just want you to be _fierce_, Bubby."

But maybe it's high time to accept that Gumball isn't about that manly-man life. The prince sinks to the floor with his back against the table. Marshall Lee comes closer; Gumball would miss a whale at five paces, with or without cake all over his face.

"Can we just drink next time you want to real talk?" Gumball sounds exasperated.

"I'll work on it," Marshall Lee says. "But really. What's up your butt?"

"I'll tell you later. How are you two with the..?"

"I'll tell you later."

There's some strange new change in this friendship that won't be dealt with right now. Silently, they both file it away to be addressed at an undisclosed 'later'. Marshall Lee has never really told Gumball but

"You're my best bro," he says now. He can feel Gumball tear up and he should bail now before Gumball knocks these hetero feels out of the ballpark with some equally lame guilty confession but then a nasally voice calls out from behind them.

"Oh my Glob you two," Lumpy Space Prince is on the table top above, holding up his camera phone. "This is going on Guys Gone Wild**."

Marshal Lee can't grab that phone fast enough.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

The Biennial Gumball Ball is a black tie affair. Marshall Lee is just vain enough to keep his converses on (fuck society!) and go red-shirt-black-tie with the rest. Marceline rolls up with Fionna on Cake, fashionably late because that's just how adventuresses do. Now if only these Candy girls would stop asking him for a dance.

"So I saw this homoerotic video of you covered in cake," she greets him when he finally makes his way through the crowd.

"You look nice too," Marshall Lee sidetracks. He's not one for PDA but she's a vision in grey chiffon and red pumps and it'll be interesting to see how long he can go without touching her waist. They stand by the punch bowl, sipping and silently waging this childish no-hands contest.

"I was dancing with Bubba earlier," Marceline says. "What's he so glad about?"

"Our homoerotic cake fight."

She smiles. "I've been thinking…"

Marshall Lee has already told her he won't let her die, like ever.

"I'll tell everyone tomorrow," Marceline concludes. "Can't deny it forever, you know?."

"That's great," he nudges her arm. "But I wanna talk to you about that."

"Later?"

A slow song comes on and disco lights revolve. Marceline gives him that look that says _humor me._

_Always._

He leads her to the dance floor; she wins. They're as normal as any other pair dancing here tonight.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Marshall Lee once told Marceline that nothing lasts.

He deserves a roundhouse kick to the face for that one because even back then he had that gut feeling about _them. _Marshall Lee has thought about offering 'that' before. He just never expected Marceline to be life-smacked with an expiration date at 18. But she doesn't have problems walking home at night and she doesn't care about shedding those pumps and walking barefoot now.

They're halfway across the Grass Lands. Marshall Lee thinks he'll miss dirtying his precious converse to walk beside her holding that hand. He'll miss the pulse of that throat and the phenomenon of holding living breathing warmth.

"You know how I asked you stuff last night?" Marshall Lee says casually.

"Yeah?"

He's 107% sure she'll say yes.

"Marcy."

He stops and their interlaced fingers pull her back to face him.

"Let me save you."

That's the best segue from silence to proposal that she'll ever get. Marceline's expression is tentative; she can sense where this is suddenly going.

"Is this what I think it is…?" she trails off.

"Do you want to be a vampire?" he asks simply. Marceline knows he's never changed anyone in a thousand years; he thinks such crime against nature is beneath him. But he's not too proud now.

"But you hate it," Marceline says quietly.

He loves her more. Marshall Lee shrugs.

"You don't have to, you know," she says, looking serious.

He snorts. "Hi, I'm Marshall Lee. I really really like you."

"Um," is all Marceline can say after several moments.

"Not gonna lie, it'll hurt like a mother," he says frankly. "And you'll hate my guts the whole time." She looks like she wants to joke but nothing comes out. "But I mean, you'll have forever afterwards to have me make it up to you." Her hand goes over her mouth and it's kinda funny how she's tongue-tied for once and it's okay that she's supermegatouched right now since all she has to do is

"Just say yes," Marshall Lee urges.

"Does this look like a no to you?" Marceline retorts, wiping at her running mascara. That's good enough for him; Marshall Lee pulls her close and catches her lips with his. He'll miss this too, drowning her mouth in oral fuckery until she gasps for air like she does now.

"I always kinda hoped you would keep me around," Marceline whispers into his collar. "Even before the dating."

A random breeze ruffles her hair. Changing her doesn't have to be tonight but the fact that they'll have forever to jam-argue-philosophize-copulate puts Marshall Lee over the moon and back.

There's a scent in that breeze. Marshall Lee picks up on candle smoke and mahogany and bad vibes. They charge his reflexes like a giant shot of adrenaline. He steps in front of Marceline.

_Of all the times to revolt._

Shadows swoop down in the distance. Five, fifteen, thirty vampires appear, all in those pretentious velvet curtains they call capes. There was a time when Marshall Lee made this bunch wear matching plaid for giggles and run around calling themselves Bloods & Crypts. One vampire comes forward, hood down; it's the blonde one that dropped him that ring. He's taller and more serpentine and that makes no difference; Marshall Lee isn't worried.

But then again it's been way too long since he last purged for trouble makers.

"Do you have a death wish?" Marshall Lee rubs his hair, irritated. The blonde guy bows anyway.

"Evening Vampire King," he greets, then looks at Marceline. "I like your dress."

"Thanks," she says easily.

"My name is—"

Ain't nobody got time, so Marshall Lee holds up a hand. "So I appreciate the coup coming to _me _this time. How about you just come back in ten years with _fifty_?"

"What coup? We're here with a proposal," the vampire feigns indignance. Sarcastic bastard. Then again Marshall Lee shouldn't talk. But he's not about to rip heads off in front of Marceline either. So he waits. The vampire raises an eyebrow. "Unless you've already made one..?"

"Don't worry about it," Marshall Lee frowns.

"Actually, _they _do," he gestures to the crowd behind. "You see, no one can actually challenge you; thanks to your heritage you're – as you'd say—OP as fuck. Now if your subjects are to have another half-demon as Vampire Queen…" His red eyes watch Marceline curiously. "That's just too much power monopoly over the nobles, 'naw mean?"

"Vampire politics," Marshall Lee explains to Marceline. "Dreary stuff."

"I don't want to be queen," Marceline offers helpfully.

"Very kind," the vampire smiles. "But the coven back there just doesn't want you around, you know."

"Turn around babe," Marshall Lee says casually and starts rolling up his sleeves because it's better to nip those kinds of people in the bud or better yet in the spine.

"Wait!" The vampire says hastily. "We just want you to abdicate."

Marshall Lee takes a moment to consider. He's thought this over before. "Sure."

The vampire raises both eyebrows now. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," Marshall Lee shrugs. "Treasury key is in the North Tower. Fifth wall with the carving."

"Why would you give everything up so easily?" The vampire eyes him suspiciously. All the land and the black magic and the accursed wealth? Marshall Lee doesn't even bother wearing the crown.

"You guys are annoying," he grins. "Like oh my Grod, chill." That, and half the nobles will strangle each other over that crown. He'll have to bring popcorn.

"You swear?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Very well," the vampire retreats. He takes Marshall Lee's title with him; it's for grabs now. Marshall Lee stands for a moment and waits for some feels to sink in. _Vampire King_ has been associated with him for so long, after all. The feels come, but they're trivial.

Marceline touches his back. "Are you sure?"

They've done away with cancer and politics tonight. He grins again. "Unless you don't want to date a commoner..?"

"Oh and _Marshall Lee_?" the blonde vampire calls out. He floats with the rest of the coven in the distance. "We did bring fifty."

_Hell_. They get more trifling every time.

Should he really have expected otherwise?

He just wants to be left alone.

Marshall Lee moves like lightning. He scoops Marceline off her feet as old swords lash out – a half second too late at the space they used to be. A twist of the shoulders – _ninja, bitches_— and throwing knives miss his throat to sail over to some unseen spot. He lands in a crouch yards away. More caped shadows appear over them; they blot out the sky but their weapons gleam in greeting. Silver. Seriously? They want to assassinate him with _werewolf_ tools? The vampires swoop down.

"Marsh—" Marceline grips his shirt tightly.

"Don't look," Marshall Lee whispers. But she'll hear.

He was once going to pull her out of a ruined daycare in this form.

**\/\/\/\/**

"**Just kidding, motherfucker**."

He saves the blonde head for last. He tears it away from the neck up with one large beastly claw. That wail and that _squish_ of spine and arteries snapping like damn it's glorious. There's nothing quite like this monstrous bat-demon form of his, sixty feet high and wingspan the size of a small nation. This acre of the Grass Lands is strewn with entrails and twitching limbs and come morning it's going to stink like a cesspool of sunburnt vampire trash.

But he doesn't quite think so far ahead – bloodlust is funny like that. No, he just wants to roll around in this grisly masterpiece and revel in this unbridled evil form and fly off for more vampire covens like he usually did centuries ago.

Then her voice calls out. "Marsh."

He opens his other hand or perhaps more accurately _claw_ and there's the only other living soul here. She sits in his hairy palm and looks at him with wide eyes.

This is Marceline and she's horrified by him. That look is a tranquilizing dart.

_Shitshitshit_.

He didn't mean to get carried away.

"**Marcy**," he says but she winces. His voice is a great death-rumble that sounds like nails on chalkboard. He sets her down on soggy, bloody grass. It stains the clean grey of her dress. He finds the will to morph back into himself – just Marshall Lee, half-demon Vampire King, all dressed up in suit and tie.

"Marcy," he says again now as he kneels down to her. She tries to smile but he's already taken her along for that entire five-minute massacre of a joyride.

"I'm sorry," he tells her but if he hugs her now she'll just be dirtied by filthy hands and not just metaphorically.

Marceline smiles weakly; there must be anxious furrows on his brow because she reaches out to smooth them away. Her fingers leave a trail of blood that doesn't reek of undead. Marshall Lee sniffs. Marceline's hair has come undone and it falls over bare shoulders and into her lap. He draws her hair away from her left side and stares. His first instinct is to call Donut but what are her smiley-face band-aids going to do with this ugly gaping wound bleeding all over Marceline's abdomen.

Was it him? Was it them?

Holy Grod he doesn't have time to think about that because Marceline was shaking before and she falls into him now. Marshall Lee takes her gently into his arms but his mind is a fallout mess. Her breathing is laboured. His gut tells him he has one option.

Everything has gone irreversibly wrong but Marshall Lee can still cheat death.

**\/\/\/\/**

They make a bloody, farcical pieta, the two of them. This cavern floor is no less cold than the one he was changed on.

He bites.

Marceline's throat is as soft as any human's. Her blood is a shocking, unnerving drug. Oh Grod what is this terrible urge to slash her wrists and let blood trickle everywhere so he can lick her body dry and she wouldn't know he'd be pleasuring her to death anyway.

Self-control was never his strong point. Marshall Lee struggles against those five minutes of unholy ecstasy now. But Marceline's breath is warm albeit fading against his ear and her hand holds his shoulder blade like the first time they made love when she trusted him to fucking blow her mind pun intended. Grod help him he's one sick fucker but he just loves this girl too much to even think about failing now.

Feeling Marceline writhe is déjà vu to the extreme.

_Ow_, she gasps feebly, eyes still closed. He knows that's code for holyfuckeverythinghurtslikeamother. Marshall Lee pulls away – hardest thing in life—and the only thing he can do now is hold her, and wait.

"Make it stop," Marceline whimpers and her veins bulge.

"I'm sorry," he says for the umpteenth time. He kisses her eyelids her nose cheeks forehead jaw, chastely and uselessly. "I'm sorry." He's doing this for a (fairly) noble purpose but every cry every spasm is a guilt trip.

No, he won't think about _that woman_ and wonder how much she enjoyed him crawling like the shattered scum of the earth and what kind of sadist bitch actually fucks you up in that pitiful state?

Marshall Lee throws those demons out the window for good.

This is Marceline in his arms and she's worth every angst.

Then she's still. She lies there in his lap cold and dead for what feels like forever. Marshall Lee can't have executed this transfiguration in fatal error because no, just no.

Marceline's eyelids flutter. They open, slowly. Her eyes are red.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** So yeah trixi1056, Marshall Lee turns her into a vampire. You mind reader, you.

Gumball's scene is vague on purpose, so I mean... interpret or carry on. I don't like using OC's so all the vampires just die nameless, lul. And the urge to cliff the fight was sooo. strong. But that'd be pointless aha obviously MarceLee can't die. The struggs aren't finished.

This chapter is a long weird one but eh I stand by everything in it. Let me know what you think!

THANKS for all reviews last chapter, I lol'd at each one. Not gonna lie some were way too kind and gave me feels. Really glad people like this fic and I always welcome writing crits.

* _The Tyra Banks Show_, where Tyra made everyone fierce. Admirable since you know it was the age of the dinosaurs.

** Apparently Guys Gone Wild is a real thing? o_o Like what da. Not everything needs a gender-bent equivalent.


	21. Part III: Such Great Heights

**Such Great Heights**

Marceline drifts in and out of consciousness, and for once Marshall Lee is racing the sunrise. By now he's a pro at carrying her bridal style but this time his hands shake.

They did it.

She's going to strangle him for leaving her very favorite very blood-soaked dress behind and he looks forward to it. Marshall Lee kicks open their front door and dumps her, sloppily covered in his shirt, into the bathroom tub.

"I'm tired Marsh," she mumbles when he turns on the shower. Water goes down Marceline's head in rivulets and that does little to all the mud-blood-grass-more-blood on her but she'd still make one fine bog creature.

"I'll do it," Marshall Lee sits on the edge with a sponge. He scrubs away at her skin patiently even if that mess is getting on his pants and technically it's his fault she looks this ratchet anyway. There's some kind of metaphor in all this cleansing; he'll probably rap about it tomorrow. One hand touches Marceline's cheek, compulsively. Tonight was a nightmare but her drowsy, immortalized face is really real.

Marceline takes his hand and puts two fingers in her mouth, sucking slowly. Right. She has that long tongue now and she's exploring new feats with his digits.

Marshall Lee is amused. "Rain check, babe."

"I'b hungry," Marceline opens her eyes to glare.

"You can't eat Fionna."

"Lame."

"Have this rubber ducky."

She gnaws on the duck with new fangs. It deflates (_Aw_ because he actually liked that thing). Thoughtfully, she says "I have this huge urge to… like…"

"Kill maim pillage burn?" Marshall Lee supplies. Marceline nods like the most contrary pacifist stoner and he smirks. "Sleep on it."

Marceline feels the two punctures on the left side of her neck. He knows they sting.

"I won't let you be a rage monster," Marshall Lee promises. Still washing.

"You didn't scare me."

He loves her for lying. It's strange to touch Marceline and not feel semi-human warmth. His fingers press right under her collarbone; this shouldn't be a surprise or anything but not feeling her heartbeat still confounds. Marceline is awake enough to smirk at the fact he can't take his eyes or hands off her. She inhales theatrically for his benefit.

"You're like, my _spawn_," he says in wonder.

"How's it feel?" Marceline looks at him wryly through dripping bangs.

"Righteous. You?"

"Righteous."

He reaches for a towel but she tugs on his pants for attention. Marceline's irises are raging pools of utter redness but there's something else on her mind.

"Marsh I…" For the second time tonight she's at a loss for words. "I'm really… you're really…"

He turns off the water but doesn't expect her to collect her thoughts tonight.

Marceline gives up and settles for "Don't let me eat Fionna."

Marshall Lee knows what she doesn't say.

"I got you."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"Just lick," he tells her.

Marceline rolls her eyes. "I can swallow."

"Your choice," he smirks and leans back, watching her expression. Marceline gags.

"_Ew_ man," she shoves the gelato pint into his hands. "It tastes like dirt." They're at the kitchen table trying to curb that gnawing hunger that comes with being a newborn. Afterwards he'll probably show her how to float right or maybe shape shifting into extinct species so they can go troll Nature Prince. It's like teaching life skills to a really hot baby and Marshall Lee digs being sensei.

"You get over it," he consoles her but she keeps licking the spoon, sadly.

"And I made you eat all kinds of stuff," Marceline says with some regret.

"Apple?" he offers the fruit bowl but she's sworn off those since that one incident. "C'mon, it's not like you can get _gas_ anymore."

"No."

"I'll show you how to eat red."

"No."

"Fine, princess," he rolls his eyes now too. "What do you want?"

There's a chance she'd say newborn deer baby but their eyes meet and it's another telepathic collision of boss ideas.

"Bubba's kitchen," they high-five loudly.

There's loud knocking at their front door.

"MARSHALL LEE!" Fionna and Cake go to town with the doorbell. "We know you're home!"

Marceline bites her lip and Marshall Lee shouts "WE'RE FREAKING."

Fionna and Cake have this thing about barging into his living room and they go ahead and do just that.

"What did you do in the Grass Lands, man!" Fionna says. "It's like, _major funkage_ over there!"

He goes to greet them from the kitchen doorway. "Not now guys."

"Yeah now," Cake does that neck roll with her hands on her hips. "You gotta clean that mess up."

_I'll tell them_, Marceline whispers behind him. He knows she's nervous about biting on her only girlfriends though, not counting Gumball. Well people are going to find out anyway.

"Try some Cake ass, it's pretty juicy —" Marshall Lee grins like the devil and Marceline punches his back.

"Heard that," Cake comes over. "I'll smack the pervert out of you, don't think I won't. "

"That doesn't work," Marceline steps out from behind him.

"Hey Marceline," Fionna waves. "You need some Visine or something?"

"I got some," Cake rummages in her skin-pouch but then Marceline starts floating again haphazardly. Marshall Lee wonders how this will go as Cake sees suspended feet and looks up. "Actually Fionna pass me that holy water—"

"OhmyGlob is it the Lich?!" Fionna quickly tosses a flask.

"Banshee?!"

"Ghost?!"

"Vampire!" Marceline grimaces when Cake splashes water everywhere going _power of Grod compels you_ and Marshall Lee thinks he'll go laugh in that corner over there but Fionna pulls him away.

"What happened?" she frets.

"We'll fix you Marceline," Cake promises, splashing away.

"_Vampire_," Marceline repeats patiently but she also smacks the holy water out of Cake's hand. Marshall Lee watches the two heroines turn to look at him, wide-eyed.

One explanation and many interruptions later Fionna and Cake are pacified. Marceline behaves perfectly civilly except for whenever she leans across the couch to sniff Fionna's hair.

"I'm freaked," Fionna gives Marshall Lee a look. He slides himself in between them like some man-sized contraceptive.

"It's your body wash," Marceline says as he pries her away.

"How does it feel?" Fionna asks. "Flying and undead-ness and stuff."

"Righteous."

"Are you getting those freaky vampire urges?" Cake looks cautious.

"Not really. Not anymore," Marceline shrugs and Marshall Lee takes smug credit.

"Y'all some nasty chillun."

"Hey now."

"How come Flame Prince never notices," Fionna sniffs her own arm. Still oblivious to grown-up talk at fourteen. Maybe it's time to give her _Relationships for Dummies _again.

"Really?" Marceline leans over one more time. "Lemme double check."

"So how about that rake," Marshall Lee pulls her up into the air.

"No rakes!" Fionna and Cake jump to their feet. "Just adventure!"

Which really means twelve-hour road trip. Marshall Lee scoffs. "Or I could just rake."

"No way. We gotta go see Nature Prince," Fionna fastens her green backpack. "He'll know what to do with the mess."

"_Rake_ it?"

"Make it fertilizer, duh," Cake leads Marceline outside by the wrist. "Conserve the environment, man."

Oh Grod they want to recycle burnt vampires.

"Not everything is a quest," Marshall Lee sighs but who is he to pass up watching tomfoolery. First things first though. "Cake let me tweet* on your phone."

"Oh, I know what to say," Marceline peers over his shoulder as he types.

**"HAILTOTHEVampireking: BubbaGumpShrimp19 guess who's a vampire now! #xoxomarceline" **gets a thousand retweets or so at the end of the day.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Theirs is kind of a happily-ever-after type of ending. Marceline tells him so one night when they're out jamming in the graveyard. Marshall Lee thinks it better lumping be.

He says "More or less."

"What do we do now?" Marceline asks. They sit back-to-back on a mausoleum, plucking guitar chords in tandem. She was a bum of a half-demon then and she's a bum of a vampire now. It saves them the trouble (or maybe entertainment) of moving to the Night-O-Sphere for a while, waiting for her newborn vamp rages to die down.

"Whatever we want," he answers. What is there, really, that can't eventually be had when you're ageless and indestructible?

"Cure cancer."

Marshall Lee isn't so deep. "Find Waldo."

"Steal the moon."

"Streak in Lemongrab."

"Build a yacht." He raises an eyebrow; Marceline explains with "Simon."

"Write fanfiction," he one-ups her.

"Do that first," Marceline laughs but she's totally serious.

"Get married," Marshall Lee tells her just as seriously. He keeps playing on his axe bass but Marceline stops with her butterfly guitar.

"Just kidding," he snickers and she elbows him, hard. "What, Mar, you can't commit?"

"Who needs a ring," Marceline scoffs.

"A proper lady."

"I wasn't raised right."

It's probably the best thing he's done though. Marshall Lee wonders if he knew then that he was missing this laughable and yet really real elation of just living.

"Remember when you said nothing lasts?" Marceline says suddenly.

"When was that," Marshall Lee lies. He can feel her smile.

"Let's test that theory."

Maybe in her own way that's as good as a ring. What a weirdo.

"Okay," he says. They've pissed each other off before and they'll do it again. But he won't mind seeing how long they'll keep running on this high of being together. It could be those forever-young hormones talking but he's thinking the two of them could last infinity squared doing whatever. One of these days he'll have to show her those Grod-awful rap lyrics about her lumps, unless she finds them first.

"So hey," Marceline suddenly says. "I've been writing all these weird songs lately…"

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Everything stays pretty much the same since changing Marceline. Except sometimes Marshall Lee is so disturbingly glad, he might as well barf rainbows and shit gold. He's okay with that.

One night he visits Candy Castle with Marceline. Fionna and Cake come crashing in suddenly and run off with the jewel of Gumball's crown. Gumball runs around with scissors (shit is serious!) shouting about the Lich and do they realize what they've done?

The whole skirmish ends in the courtyard where Marshall Lee, Marceline, and Gumball arrive in time to see a large creature go through a wormhole. Unnatural winds blow everywhere. It's just a glimpse but Marshall Lee knows only one thing has that incomparable aura of seriously sinister motherfucker.

"Stop the Lich!" Gumball shouts. Cake grabs onto those grey robes but in seconds she and Fionna are sucked into unknown space. The wormhole disappears.

"OH MY GLOB," Gumball and Marceline gasp.

They can't do much else because moments later Fionna and Cake tumble out of another flash of a wormhole.

Apparently in those five seconds shit went down in an alternate Farmworld reality and everything already happened, Cake fixed errthang and saved them all the end. The least they could give her is a group hug.

"Oh hey, Marshall Lee and Marcy," Cake adds as an afterthought. "Cosmic Owl says hi. Says you guys hung out."

"Cool," Marshall Lee and Marcy say.

"Oh yeah and there was something else."

"Oh yeah?"

"He said..." Cake scratches her head, thoughtfully.

"..._Y'all still got some time_."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** The last scene derives from "The Lich" and "Jake the Dog" episodes. The last line is important too haha.

Again, thanks to everyone reviewing/keeping up with this fic. Feedback is always appreciated :]

ps: yeah dude Marshall Lee is still king.

* So I guess there's Twitter in Aaa, rofl. If you don't get the tweet, it's a shoutout from Marshall Lee to Gumball.


	22. Part III: Almost Easy

**Almost Easy**

_Y'all still got some time_.

They agree to figure out those words in the morning, but Marshall Lee can't sleep on it. He has an idea and a gut-feeling and they scream to be done or they'll never work. At dawn he sneaks out of the house.

Marshall Lee has had dumbass ideas before. This one involves a sack of tomatoes and a remote spot in the Forest of Trees (no use getting interrupted when he's on a quest of his own). He bites into the first tomato. It's so un-classy to get high this early in the morning but one way or another he's going to talk with that Cosmic Owl.

From what Cake told him and Marceline last night, Cosmic Owl is very real – ergo that conversation with him wasn't so bogus after all. Marshall Lee knows the owl wouldn't be obligated to give them godly favors or anything, but would it kill that guy to say more than_ some time_?

Time doesn't exist anymore when you get halfway through a ten-pound sack. Still no sign of golden wings. Still gonna keep eating. Marshall Lee is aware he's been in this psychedelic wonderland for a while. It's gotta be a 5-dimensional experience up in here, like damn that tomato farmer really knows how to grow his shit. He lies on a riverbank, hands behind his head, chilling with the tomato sack. Marshall Lee can probably stay in this funk forever and contemplate the meaning of life while galaxies go by but he won't. Nothing compares to reality these days. He's going to keep it that way.

This idea was a long shot from the start. But when the sack is near empty, there's a flash of gold far up high. That's all Marshall Lee needs to take off.

"Hey! Cosmic Owl!"

"Wassup," Cosmic Owl slows down enough to give him a high five. "You get my message?"

"Yeah, I gotta talk to y—"

"Then why ain't you with your girl?" the owl pokes him in the forehead. "Stupid."

Well damn, Marshall Lee was hoping for 'just kidding' or 'you just got punk'd'. "What do you mean _stupid_? You telling me that message is for real?"

"Didn't Ah tell you from the start?" Cosmic Owl has no pupils but he's probably doing the eye-roll. "Yeah man. For real."

Four small words have never been so mind-boggling.

"You're shitting me."

"Ah shit you not."

He probably does look stupid with his open mouth gaping like a fish. Apparently Cosmic Owl likes him enough to lead him onto a cloud for some man-talk (Cool. Clouds feel like Teflon). Marshall Lee has a bajillion questions running through his brain but the first one that comes out is

"_Why_?"

"You don't wanna know this."

"I do."

Cosmic Owl thinks for a moment, as if to summarize some intricate universal happening. "You know how Fionna and Cake just beat the Lich? With a wish?" Marshall Lee nods. "Well, errthang happens in Ooo and Aaa around the same time, so Finn and Jake…"

"Beat the Lich too," Marshall Lee guesses.

Cosmic Owl corrects him. "Naw, not yet, they're 'bout to. But they're gonna have to make a different wish than Fionna and Cake." Marshall Lee has never been this high or this focused at the same time. Cosmic Owl puts a bro-arm around his shoulders.

"They gotta wish that Marceline never went to Aaa."

"… What?" Marshall Lee pushes the arm away. "No way."

"I say this brotha-to-brotha," Cosmic Owl promises. Marshall Lee has questions to be answered but then they hear off-key singing.

Ice Queen flies past them singing about needing that one thing, you got that one thing.

"C'mon I'll show you," Cosmic Owl says and they follow her for what seems like mere minutes. They land on completely different terrain than Marshall Lee's colorful get-high wonderland. There's smoke and rubble and demon hoards flying in the distance. Evil vibes are everywhere. It's just as Marceline describes Ooo when she's stressing about Ice Queen's latest chapter.

"Hey! What're you guys doing in my Imagination Zone?" Ice Queen calls out. She sits by the roots of a giant tree. There's a burnt-out fort above her that still resembles Marshall Lee's precious tree house.

Comic Owl sees that incredulous look on his face. "I told you. Errbody's dream is just one big subconscious."

"What are you writing?" Marshall Lee wanders over to Ice Queen.

"Don't talk to me, I still have writer's block," She writes and erases on her notepad repeatedly. "Why is my imagination stuck like this ugh it's so lame."

"Cuz you're really seeing what's happening in Ooo," Cosmic Owl says.

Ice Queen looks up. "Hey, I know you! You're that nerd."

"_Finn and Jake are missing someone, they just don't know who,_" Marshall Lee peers over Ice Queen's shoulder to read the scribbles. "_But that one person could have made all the difference—_"

"Go away Marshall Lee," Ice Queen swats at him with her notes. Cosmic Owl leads him away.

"Let me get this straight," Marshall Lee frowns. "The Lich is taking over Ooo right now. How is sending my girlfriend back going to fix that?"

"Gawd this is complicated," Cosmic Owl scratches his head. "Long story short, little Marceline floated around that wormhole for a thousand years. Don't ask, wormholes are just funky like that. Then she washed up on Aaa." Marshall Lee keeps his mouth shut, miraculously. "That means she's not there in Ooo to kill the Vampire King, kick demon ass, all that stuff you did in your world. You heard of butterfly effect*?"

Marshall Lee nods.

"Well since she wasn't ever in Ooo to do her Vampire Queen thang, Finn and Jake just can't win with all the demons and the Lich and errthang. The end," Cosmic Owl concludes. "Unless…"

Oh he-ell no he's not going to let Finn and Jake make that wish.

"It's gotta happen, man," Cosmic Owl tells him. "They gotta save Ooo."

"I don't care about Ooo."

"Gimme your hand."

Marshall Lee does so, even when Cosmic Owl starts gagging into his palm. A small hourglass falls into his hand.

"Um. Cool?" he's a little confused.

"You should see mah poo."

"What's this for?"

"Timer. You got around 24 hours until that Finn and Jake make their wish."

Marshall Lee scoffs. "Don't need this. I'll go cut that Lich myself."

"_24 hours_, man. You ain't got time to sail to the other world."

All these revelations are falling around him like a damn nuclear shower. The last one is the hardest to digest.

"_Why_?" Marshall Lee says at last, as in why the fuck is this even happening. He's not even floating anymore; he squats down and stares at dead grass. Countless ideas come and go through his head. 24 hours is a fucking joke that has to have a punch line somewhere.

His mind reels because 24 hours ago he had _forever_.

"I have to do something," he mutters.

"Ain't nothing you can do."

"There has to be someone."

"No one in Aaa."

"Then help me," Marshall Lee looks up at the owl. He's pleading.

Cosmic Owl shakes his head. "I mean it, man. Ain't nothing nobody can do for you."

Now Marshall Lee just falls back on his ass and holds his head with both hands. Maybe the tighter he grips the sooner he'll come across a solution.

"You okay?" Cosmic Owl pats his back awkwardly but he doesn't move. "Aw, this is why I don't tell people details. Makes 'em crazy."

"What's going to happen? From that wish?" Marshall Lee asks quietly. The owl hesitates. "Just tell me, I'm already mind-blown."

"A rewind. Everything's gon' happen over again, but Marceline won't have ever left Ooo."

He tries to imagine never having met her. But some things are too hard to think of.

"Shit."

"Sorry, man."

"She's the one, man. Who _finds_ that?"

It could be part of a hallucination, but he hears voices calling him.

_Marshall Lee?_

Cosmic Owl hears them too. A gold wing thumps him on the head. "Go be with your lady."

_Marshall Lee._

_No-good hobo, wake the freak up._

Those voices are tearing him away from this subconscious universe. Marshall Lee grips Cosmic Owl's wing tightly. "I'm not giving up."

"Ah believe ya," the owl answers, but there's pity in his voice. The ground crumbles under Marshall Lee, into empty nothing. Stars, space, and Cosmic Owl fade to black. He feels nothing.

"Marshall Lee," those voices say again, and this time it's for real.

It's not Marceline shaking him awake, but Fionna. Her face is anxious. Marshall Lee rubs his eyes; he's still lying under that shady oak but the stinging on his bare arms tells him it's morning.

"Marceline?" Cake is on her cellphone, behind Fionna. "We found him. He's high as a kite. You want me to what?" Then she stretches an arm and slaps him across the temple. "Done."

"_Why_?" Marshall Lee complains, still not completely awake.

"That's for getting your friends worried," Cake answers.

"Dude you've been gone since yesterday," Fionna says.

_Yesterday_. It took him a whole day to find Cosmic Owl. Suddenly he thinks wasting time is the worst transgression, and that's coming from him, the biggest idler of them all. He shakes the fog from his thoughts.

"I gotta get back," Marshall Lee pushes himself up. The earth spins.

"Take it easy," Fionna tries to support him but he rejects her. "You're so out of it."

"Cake lemme see your phone," he requests because he's about to pull a Godfather and call in a shitton of favors from everyone, anyone, who can either stop time or send him to the parallel dimension or both.

"Heck naw," Cake slaps his hand away.

"C'mon, it's mad important," Marshall Lee stands on shaky feet.

"You're going straight home!"

"I don't have time for this!"

He lifts a foot to step onto thin air but he's half in rigor mortis. Suddenly he loses balance. Marshall Lee isn't flying – he's falling face forward.

"Marshall Lee!" hands reach out for him but the ground breaks his fall first. Everything goes black again.

Fitfully, he dreams of a hundred ways out of this mess.

None work.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Marshall Lee comes awake in the Candy Kingdom hospital. He vaguely recognizes this hospital wing and the chair beside the bed and the girl in it resting her head by his arm.

Marceline feels him stir. "You awake?"

"Hi," his voice cracks. Grod he's tired and not just physically.

"You're okay," Marceline strokes his bangs from his eyes. Can they just take a moment or how about forever to stay like this where he can simply look at her face and marvel.

"Nice hospital gown," she comments at his attire.

Why would you remind anyone their ass crack is touching bed sheets? He smirks. "Get it off me."

But the past night's events come back to mind. This heaviness in his chest is unlike anything that's ever weighed him down.

"Mar," he takes her hand from his face. "Where are my clothes?"

"Peppermint's washing them."

By now he's had so many stress-palpitations in so many hours that one more won't hurt. But this one makes him wobble when he tries to get off the bed.

"Stay down!" Marceline grabs his arm.

"I don't have time for this," he shakes her off. "I had something in my—"

"Calm your tits," Marceline snaps. She withdraws something small out of her pocket and he sits back down. It's the hourglass. "What is this, Marsh?"

"Owl vomit," Marshall Lee says tiredly. "Can you just give it to me?"

She does, but she stares at him. "What's wrong?"

Everything.

Marshall Lee holds the hourglass sideways, upside down, shakes it around. But the sand inside drips down in only one direction. Every grain is irreplaceable time. You'd think that after a series of mind-numbing revelations it's impossible to be shocked anymore.

"How long was I out for?" he asks, but a look outside through the windows tells him the answer is _too long_.

"Most of the day," Marceline shrugs. "Why?"

The hourglass is halfway finished.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N: **I swear, I know what I'm doing. Which is being difficult to my own ship haha.

Recap:

1) Marceline not being in Ooo changes the circumstances of what Finn & Jake need to beat the Lich/save the world. So unlike what happens in the show, the wish Prismo will tell them to make is to wish she never left so that

- Ooo and Aaa go back in time and everyone is in the world they should be.

- In another thousand years Finn & Jake can just wish the original wish in the "Jake the Dog" episode. WISH-CEPTION.

2) Marshall Lee and Marceline have around twelve hours in Aaa until Jake makes the wish in Ooo.

Ermahgerd how will this conflict be resolved. This fic is nearing conclusion and I'll try to end it epically(?). Not much MarceLee going on in this chapter but I felt like writing some rising action.

If something is confusing in this chapter feel free to ask. Mad thanks to everyone reading! I'm pretty glad people read this fic, including the cool fella that checked religiously :P

What would _you _do if you had 12 hours left with your boo thang?

**s/n: **Guest – Saudade is a 'state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone'. Wikipedia has a much more poignant definition lol.


	23. Part III: Dashboard

**Dashboard**

Why even tell her? Why make her stress like he does when soon enough stressing won't matter? This silent panic is something Marshall Lee can keep to himself – except Marceline reads him like an open book. She frowns.

"Did you OD on tomatoes so you'd find Cosmic Owl?"

She stares him down with x-ray vision.

"Tell me," Marceline says and her grip on his arm leaves no room for white lies.

He knows her so well it's obscene. She'll sit there listening to him and she'll try not to look like he's turning her life into a living nightmare with every word but that open book thing goes both ways. She'll bite her tongue to not interrupt with frantic questions but they'll run through her mind the whole time he's talking. And when he's done she'll stare at him and look for any sign that everything was a joke, are you kidding me oh Grob why and this isn't fair. That's how it was for him. So first, Marshall Lee says

"Blue pill or red pill*?"

Marceline smiles crookedly, tentatively. "That bad?"

"Hey," he takes the hand on his arm. "Can you just trust that I know what I'm doing?"

"What—"

"And when this is all over you can joke about me freaking out but just—" He inhales. "Not right now."

Marshall Lee doesn't sound urgent often; Marceline nods.

He chooses words carefully. And when he's through explaining Marceline sums everything up with

"Well damn."

He loves that she's trying really hard not to freak.

"So I was thinking," Marshall Lee says. "Who cares what Cosmic Owl says. Like, what kinda guy would I be if I let stupid shit take you away?"

"Another adventure?" Marceline raises a brow. "I'll invite myself."

"Sorry," he apologizes for ditching her two nights ago, because even if he's practically counting nanoseconds right now that annoyed look on her face will always be deadly.

"I thought you disappeared, Marsh. I woke up and you're gone and it's really dumb but that whole day I thought maybe the universe swallowed your ass and sent you to Ooo."

"_Sorry_."

"Chauvinist dick," Marceline says and he supposes in some ways she's not wrong. She stares at him and her fingers drum on his knee. "So what do we do?"

"Marceline I got his clothes," Peppermint Maid walks into the room and Marshall Lee takes back those jeans plaid and shoes in a heartbeat. Conveniently, she's also on his mental list of People To Visit In 12 Hours.

"Pepper, can you take us to Ooo?" he asks casually.

"Who?"

So much for this connection. Marshall Lee shrugs. "Oh you know, just trying to get to a parallel dimension."

"Or stop time," Marceline adds.

"I know a guy for that," Peppermint Maid rubs her chin. "He's the only wizard out there working on that stuff."

Marshall Lee expects _Death_ or some other big shot. He curses when Peppermint Maid says "Tony."

"C'mon you wuss," Marceline leads him outside the clinic when he's fully dressed for adventuring.

"Psh. I'm not worried," he tells her. "I just never liked that guy."

"Marsh, we dated years ago," she rolls her eyes.

"I know," Marshall Lee holds his thumb and forefinger close together. "But dude was this close to Tier 15, Mar."

"Raise that five inches," she grins.

"I hate you."

Marceline gets small impulses too. Her arms go around his waist for a moment and she hugs him tightly like he's the one about to be gone. "_I'm_ worried. No big deal though."

Marshall Lee knows she's not talking about Tony. He squeezes back.

"So how about that adventure."

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"No," Tony says. They're standing outside his trailer at dusk and Marshall Lee's thoughts wander to what Marceline used to do in this isolated neck of the woods.

"Aw c'mon, Tony," Marceline pleads. "Be cool."

"No you guys," Tony repeats. Still rocking the d-bag studs. "Look Marcy, it's not even 'cuz you left me for your brother or whatever." Marshall Lee snorts. "It's just, time magic is unknown stuff. Nobody's got a spell to stop time _everywhere_. Which totally sounds twisted, by the way."

"We just hate clocks," Marshall Lee explains.

"So that's it?" Marceline says. "We can't give you anything..?"

"Maybe if you drink this love potion for me," Tony rummages in his pants pocket. Marceline rolls her eyes; he grins. "Haha, joke. I had to try, you're just really good at… like…"

"Oh yeah," Marshall Lee agrees and they both nod. Marceline elbows him hard.

"Hey," Tony says as they turn to leave. "There's this witch chick who makes portals. But she's kinda…"

"Yeah man," Marshall Lee says knowingly, because she's their next stop and he's not looking forward to that one either.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

"No," Dimension Witch says, and her four massive green arms are on her massive hips. "And I know how you played my girl Ashley, ain't no witch gonna help you."

Marshall thinks the playing went the other way around. What he says regretfully is "I am a cad. Help me."

"I ought to send you to—"

"A parallel gender-bent universe?"

"I was gonna say the sun but nice try. Fool."

Marshall Lee knows how to handle the difficult babes. He purrs seductively. "I bet you just can't."

Dimension Witch scowls as she stirs her cauldron of boiling bubbly nastiness. "Bet you I can."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

"Nuh-uh"

"Yeah-huh."

"Nuh—"

"YEAH-HUH," Dimension Witch snaps and does a little raindance with her wand. Which is great because he half-expected her to go Hulk-rage on his ass. A portal explodes into the clearing. Marshall Lee throws Marceline a glance across the cauldron because this portal is almost too good to be true—

"So I've never heard of Ooo," Dimension Witch says frankly and at least his high hopes didn't get too high. "But that's my best shot."

"You promise?" Marshall Lee raises a brow though he's going to fly into that sucker regardless.

"Uhh yeah? I so won this bet, fool."

"We didn't bet anything…"

"Oh."

"Thanks though."

Dimension Witch looks so forlorn that Marceline whispers into his ear. "We should set her up with Muscle Prince."

"Then just call me, sweet cheeks!" Dimension Witch calls out as they go into the portal, and it's not Marshall Lee she's talking to.

If he had a working heart it would be hammering. But when the portal closes and they float into another world, Dimension Witch's best shot isn't Ooo after all. Marshall Lee exhales; they're in the Night-O-Sphere now, so they might as well go see his mother. But he's not eager to go down this hillside into the city below, made up of lava and undead fuckery and _Mom_. She'd probably advise them to go sacrifice Fionna and Cake. He pulls out the hourglass for a moment and wishes he hadn't looked.

It doesn't matter what dimension or timezone they're in; the sand drips on.

"Hey," Marceline rubs his back, comfortingly. How tempting it is to pull out his hair by the roots but then again taking his sexy down a notch won't help the situation.

Marshall Lee snickers. "She tried to pick you up."

"Shut up."

They go down into the Night-O-Sphere with nine hours to go.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

They're bickering halfway to Science Witch's cave. Something about a stick up his ass and her not taking things seriously. Oh Grod why are they even fighting at a time like this?

"We don't have time for this," Marshall Lee pulls out the hourglass yet again (it's second nature by now).

"Will you stop?" Marceline tries to snatch the object away. "That thing is making you insane."

"Nuh-uh!"

"It's eating your brain out!"

"Marcy." He's trying not to be on edge but the list is dwindling and the amount of _sorryIcanthelpyou_'s accumulating. "You can go home if you want."

She scowls. "You want cookies when you get back?"

"And some thanks too."

"You're such a douche!"

"Don't be a bitch!"

An apology is immediately at the tip of his tongue (though _she_ started it) but Marceline slaps him. Marshall Lee is totally surprised; the hourglass slips through his fingers, falls, shatters on rocky ground. Holy fuck that thing was a lifeline. He's on his knees scraping up glass and sand.

"I'm sorry," Marceline helps him but magic things are useless when broken. Marshall Lee sits on a boulder and stares at the mess. The universe is winning. Somewhere out there Cosmic Owl will say _Ah told you so_ and slap him for wasting time with arguments but like, damn. He has to try.

Marshall Lee has this urge to choke a goat.

"I'm sorry," Marceline creeps closer and reaches out for his knee. His hand moves on its own; it grips her wrist tightly. He's never taken frustration out on her but the words come easily.

"Do you fucking understand how much grief I go through? For you?" Marshall Lee's teeth grit together.

"Fucking chauvinist dick let go," she struggles.

"_Do you_?"

_Fuck you_ is what her eyes say as they glare at each other. He's can't remember what's made them turn on each othe. He doesn't care. Marceline looks ready to strangle him for whatever she's pissed about and he's five seconds away from shaking her until her teeth rattle, and in another life furious make up sex will make things right afterwards. But soon it won't matter how perfectly they go together even at their worst.

"What are we doing?" Marceline's expression softens. Marshall Lee lets go.

"What if we don't…" his voice trails off and for the first time, he considers the unthinkable.

"Don't think about it."

"But let's say we don't—"

"Then I'll take your mind off it," Marceline retorts. Her hands go on his temples and she's (un)dead serious. "I got you, Marsh."

It actually hurts to look at her face and think of failing. But his mouth twitches. "You make me swoon."

They keep going with the house calls. Losing track of time is almost a relief.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

It doesn't take them much longer to exhaust the People To Visit list. Their last visit is to Flamba and they find her tending a bar in Fire Kingdom.

"Sorry," the flambit says and she'll never know she's making the nightmare a finality, a reality. "Can't help ya." Marshall Lee is almost too worn out to care. "I can make you's a nice Flaming Gorilla though."

"Nah."

Marshall Lee face-planks on the bar. No one bothers them and that's probably because he's exuding serial killer aura. He's never tried so hard or failed so hard like this, ever. What is this shitty feeling in his gut that's like no other...

"I think I'm in shock," he admits to Marceline. She sits on a stool next to him. She looks good in this orange lightning and wouldn't it be nice if sheer love could solve everything.

They're out of ideas.

"You know what we could do?" Marceline says after a while.

"Find a wishing well."

"Find shooting stars."

"Pray."

"Hey," she nudges him. "Wanna go home?"

They might as well bake cookies or something. He gets up, wearily.

"Yeah."

They're both quiet on the way back. Her fingers make their way into his, though. Then later in Aaa when they're going through a dirt path in the woods for no reason, Marceline suddenly says "You know what we haven't done yet?"

"Write fanfiction?" he raises a brow. "Streak Lemongrab?"

"Get married."

Is this her idea of keeping _it_ out of mind? Marshall Lee stops floating altogether. He must look fairly incredulous because Marceline feels the need to explain herself.

"So I know this makes me sound like a total hypocrite," she stands in front of him, two inches shorter and unusually flustered. "And I don't even have a ring but you should know that I was gonna say yes eventually." She goes on about how marriage isn't necessary and it's just a dumb tradition, and then concludes with "So yeah, for some reason I kinda want to feel you slide a ring on my finger. We don't have to, I was just wondering. Cuz I kinda want us to."

"… You're cute when you're lame," is all he can say.

"Well?" Marceline demands. "Marry me?"

Heaven sings. He contemplates making her get down on one knee but that's kind of perverse when her intentions are this pure. Marshall Lee takes her face in both hands.

"Yeah."

She grins. He's (probably) going to say a cool-yet-heartfelt speech on the fly when someone calls out in singsong.

"You guys want a toast~?"

Apparently the hobos come out during full moon because there's a homeless-looking guy in hat and rags, emerging from the bushes.

"Congratulations~!" he has a crate of liquor and he waves a bottle in Marceline's face. "Drink!"

"No thanks," they edge away slowly and what kind of people would they be to take a hobo's drink away anyway.

"Hey friends. Don't be afraid," the homeless guy protests. "I'm just young and in love like you! Or I was…"

Marshall Lee smells funny business on this guy and he pulls Marceline along. "Later, man."

"Aw c'mon, lemme do you a favor! A mystical magical favor~!"

"What's in the bottle? Pee?"

"Well, yeah."

Marceline snorts. "Jerk."

The homeless guy stops flailing his arms and his drinks. "Aw, you figured it out already. What a party pooper~!" As inexplicably as he came, homeless guy ambles off to the other side of the woods. Now they'll never know why the hobo crossed the road.

"Who was that guy?" Marceline wonders. They resume flying, this time over the trees.

"Who cares, let's go get married~!" Marshall Lee sings, fingers over cheeks.

"Do that again," Marceline threatens.

"No take backs." He tells her seriously. "I'm putting a ring on it."

"You're excited." She's amused.

"Fuck yeah. Let's go rob a jewelry store. And we could get you a dress somewhere… doesn't have to be white…"

Marceline rolls her eyes but she takes his arm. "Let's just do this."

And nothing else is as relevant right now. They always did like winging it.

Marceline casually says, "I know a minister."

So does he.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

It's no Metallica wedding, the witnesses are in their pj's, and Marshall Lee never got a mariachi band together to embarrass the fuck out of Marceline. At least their friends are cool enough to get up at midnight and have a ceremony on the roof of the tree fort. The first thing Cake says is "Y'all, is this a shotgun wedding?"

"I gotta say you guys," Ice Queen is in black robes and she fastens her black-and-white minister collar, cut out of paper. "This wedding's kinda ratchet."

Marshall Lee won't bring up her online clergy license or the recent kidnap-and-marry-Gumball fiasco.

"I think it's romantic," Fionna yawns, holding BMO. "But why now?"

Cake mutters _shotgun wedding_ and Gumball is scandalized and Marceline dreamily says "We're just so full of love."

"Okay you crazy kids," Ice Queen clears her throat – is that _Weddings for Dummies_ in her hand— and everyone gathers round. There's no need for Wedding March but BMO armpit-farts the song out. Gumball keeps the sniffling to the minimum as befits the best man. Marshall Lee knows this is 'wedding' is all sorts of hasty and undignified; but Marceline holds his hand tightly and she has that silly grin and that tells him this ceremony is no less sincere. She glows and it's not from the moon or the artificial lighting.

"Vows?" Ice Queen asks at last.

Marshall Lee smirks. "I was 1,000 and you were seven, when you drifted into my life—"

"Lech," Marceline smirks back.

"O-kay," Ice Queen laughs awkwardly. "So how about that kiss?"

BMO raises an arm. "Ask if I object."

"This isn't how a wedding goes," Fionna observes.

"I do," Marceline says helpfully.

"Object?"

"_No..._"

"Should I go ahead with the rings?" Marshall Lee suggests.

"Chill, dumbholes, I'm new at this," Ice Queen snaps.

Marshall Lee goes ahead and takes the bride's left hand. He knows every callus, line, vein. The ring—courtesy of Gumball—is too big. He slips it on her finger in all its unadorned glory and he feels her eyes on him. Just as quietly Marceline takes his hand. And then they're standing there in their plaid and jeans and silly little human bands that promise forever.

"Oh Glob you guys are toooo cute," Ice Queen sobs as she pulls them both into a tight embrace.

"Yay, husband and wife yay," Marshall Lee finishes for her.

"Congrats y'all." Cake's arms stretch around them too. "Aw. I almost didn't wake up for this."

The women and genderless BMO fuss around Marceline. The hugging and the clapping should be over now but then Marshall Lee turns around to see Gumball.

"Don't cry," he sighs and for once initiates the hug.

"I know you're giddy, Marshall Lee," the prince says knowingly, patting his back.

"And you are..?."

"Also giddy."

They break apart. Marshall Lee looks at Gumball seriously. "Thanks Bubba. Like, a lot."

"Is something going on?" the prince asks, mildly curious. "_Is_ this a shotgun wedding?"

"You just want a Marshall Jr."

"That's true."

"Bubby," Marceline hugs Gumball from behind. "Thanks for everything."

"I'm here for you," Gumball just smiles and Marshall Lee thinks there won't ever be a bro quite like this bro.

"So now what?" Fionna asks, rubbing her eyes. "Do we like, throw rice at you guys?"

"You want pictures?" Ice Queen reaches for her eyebrow-compartments but then says "Oh wait."

"I didn't get presents," Gumball gasps.

"We could… play hide and seek?" Marceline says lamely.

Everyone says "GOOD NIGHT" and they line up to go down the trap door, yawning.

"We'll see you guys tomorrow!" Fionna waves.

"Oho no we won't," Ice Queen says.

"Why not?"

"The honeymoon is a beautiful tradition—"

"_Good night everybody_," Cake is last to go and she doesn't even bring up that certain persons don't live in the fort. To Marshall Lee and Marceline she winks. "See you guys way later."

The trap door shuts. They're alone. There's a wistful tone in Marceline's voice when she quietly says "Later."

"We can tell them," Marshall Lee puts an arm around her shoulders.

"Nah."

And he knows that's not because she's over 'it'.

"Is it weird that I'm like, all kinds of feels right now?" Marceline sighs, leaning into his side and holding his waist.

"I feel you, wifey."

It would be so easy to wallow in the unfairness of the unfair universe. Or ragequit, because once again it's damn unfair to have _her_ at his side and have no way to keep her there. That barely-legit wedding and these mismatched rings don't drive away the foreboding but they feel right. Nothing compares with the laughable yet real euphoria of being with _her_.

Marceline sniffles. She rubs her nose against his sleeve (well damn) and she knows she'll get away with that.

"Collar?" he offers and that's true love right there. Apparently Marceline is touched enough that her eyes water.

"You're perfect."

"What's wrong?" he asks though technically the answer is everything except them.

"I'm crazy about you," Marceline rubs at her eyes. "Oh Grod I never told you enough and now…"

Lights in the tree fort turn off and they're left in the dark. Which is just as well because Marshall Lee spends the next few minutes or so kissing tears away.

"Don't think about it," he says quietly.

Her mouth curves upwards against his. "Sing Marvin Gaye to me. On the couch."

"Okay."

Marshall Lee hasn't bothered counting time since losing track. He won't start again.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** I had planned on doing a mega-long final chapter, but then the feels just got too heavy. So next chapter is all MarceLee stuff too.

THANKS to everybody reading! And I always like critiques/reviews if you like doing those :]

* _The Matrix_ reference. That mindblow was soo kewl back in the day. Still good though.


	24. Part III: Erase Me

**Erase Me**

"_Then LSP says '_We partied together, man. You bought us Taco Bell!'_"  
_"_And Fionna's so mad at Finn she goes, _'Dickhead-narc-motherfucker!'"

_"And then everybody goes pew-pew and shit explodes._"

Marshall Lee is into many things; mostly chill-yet-totally-badass kinds of things. Making fanfiction is hella lame. He has to admit "_21 Lump Street_" is pretty alright, though, and not just because he's been co-narrating.

"Epic," he and Marceline agree, bumping fists (_ow_ because her new ring jabs into his knuckle). It's almost too bad they didn't write any of that down. Then it's back to casual jamming on the living room couch.

"You prude, you could've written me lemon," Marceline says in between strums on his bass. Her fingers dance.

"Mar. We'll just _do_ the lemon," Marshall Lee smirks. "And I didn't know you were such a perv."

She kicks him off the couch. It always was too small for two tall and totally hot bodies. "Pot kettle black! Also, there's tons of stuff you don't know about me."

Ridiculous, because he knows she picks-and-flicks with ease and rolls herself into a blanket burrito during sleep. She takes 15 minutes to shower unless he jumps in. That black _Scream Queens_ tee is her 4th-favorite shirt and she's still mad that 6 years ago he lost her in a mosh pit. And he _does_ know where her top-secret song diary is hidden. Marshall Lee strokes an invisible goatee, still sitting where he landed.

"Girl you funny."

"Forreal."

"Shock me."

It stings when your girlf—wife says, "Sometimes I let you win in _Rock Band_."

Marshall Lee blinks. "No way."

Marceline has the smuggest look. He-ell naw; he growls. "Plug in your amp."

"Mm. Talk rough to me."

But Marshall Lee and Marceline don't play around when it comes to that music stuff.

"You, me, and serious fingering. Right now."

He grabs her butterfly guitar and when she flicks on the amplifier their walls vibrate. Marceline lays down some sick riffs and Marshall Lee thinks he'll always be wonderstruck by this supermegafoxyawesomehot babe oozing rock goddess out the wazoo. But not when he throws down. They churn out sound waves easily and those are gloriously ear-splitting, euphonic chaos.

Déjà vu: they jam the house into power outage. The sound waves fade with grace and the living room stops shaking but who is he kidding there's still friction in the air. The guitars are set down and Marshall Lee's fingers sting. In the dark Marceline beckons him closer. If she says _in your face_ for old times' sake he'll have to take this showdown to a bedroom because the only thing that got settled in here is that they're both equally out of this world.

"That time we went up on the roof," Marceline says. Marshall Lee is close enough to feel cool breath hit his jaw. "I could've sworn you were gonna kiss me but noo. You wanted to play thumb war."

"Rematch?"

Her lashes are downcast. She can only be looking at his mouth.

"Then you started thumb-raping my hand."

Marshall Lee scoffs. "It's not rape if you like it."

"Then when you said you liked me I was gonna turn you down."

Marshall Lee was gonna kiss her. Now he moves back.

"Wait. Punch line," Marceline catches him by the shoulders. He can see her eyes shine. "You were so weird about it and I thought, I would totally make a sandwich for this guy. He's totally in love with me." His ego deflates, just a little. "Then I didn't care anymore that you'd be nineteen forever and you suspiciously look like you're my brother."

Marshall Lee silently thanks Based God. The clock on the wall strikes at the hour and the moment is gone.

"I never liked that thing," they both admit. The clock sails out the window and into lagoon water. They can't do away with real time that easily but it's kinda satisfying to watch its representation sink with a gush of air bubbles.

Marshall Lee has no idea how long they have and it turns out ignorance is bliss.

"Don't stress," Marceline puts her arms around him. What can you do in a no-win situation? Apparently her solution is, "Just love me."

She kisses him. Anything sounds legit when her hands hold his face and her lips are insistent.

Marshall Lee says, "Okay."

He's thought since the first time that he'll never get tired of wanting this girl and he's still right about that. Marceline won't surrender his face but he doesn't need eyes to undo the buttons of her shirt (one does not simply rip off a plaid shirt, they're not savages). It takes some back-groping to figure out her bra unhooks in front; she laughs. Laughter changes to another sound when his hands get to her chest. Marceline tends to bite into stuff when she feels bad about being loud; teeth sink into his shoulder and it's not like he minds or anything but Marshall Lee quietly reminds her that they live in a cave, ain't nobody gonna hear.

There's a pattering of small paws. Their owner runs out through the pet flap in the back door.

"Oh my Grod Schwabl," Marceline gasps and make-out flow is cut short entirely. "Mommy's sorry."

Marshall Lee smirks. "Wanna go get him?"

"He'll be a-ight."

Marshall Lee would be more smug about this childish victory over the dog except he has Marceline against the window and her legs wrap around his waist and nope there's just no blood going to the proper head anymore. It's pitch black inside this house but carrying her upstairs while sucking face is a skill long mastered. Laying Marceline down anywhere she'll let him never gets old.

It's not because of the space between her thighs impeccably tight though that may be or the way she gasps _Marshall_. It's not because she's a living centerfold when she bites her lip like that as his fingers probe. Subsistence is to make her toes curl. If they never leave his bed that would be more than fine. This is technically their wedding night, after all. But that has nothing to do with them making an art out of Tier 15. He just really really cares about her.

They're both vampires now, both undead, but the sensation she leaves on his skin can only be warmth.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Her stomach is a pillow for his head and if he holds it tight enough she won't go anywhere. Marceline traces the curve of his spine and the muscles of his back, leaving goose bumps. Marshall Lee fiddles with the band loosely fit over her other hand. It belongs there.

"I like your ring."

"I like yours."

Suddenly she mumbles then rolls over. He's on his back and she's going out the door. He'd whine about that but moments later Marceline comes back in his discarded plaid and Hambo in one hand. Does she realize the irony that she'd be leaving him dressed the same way she came into his life?

Nah. She probably feels like surrounding herself with her three favorite things.

"Why do you always wear my shirt afterwards?" Marshall Lee asks as she climbs back under his sheets.

"Cuz then I feel like I'm inside you."

"I wanna see," he says and he's not talking about the shirt.

"Marshall I'm tired," she laughs and fends off wandering hands.

"I'll do it." He hates that he's yawning.

Marceline burrows into his side, Hambo and all. He really shouldn't think about it but Marshall Lee touches the marks on her slender neck out of compulsion. In another life the one who'll bite her will be one sick fuck and he'll try to break her with all kinds of evil shit but he won't. She'll always be perfect.

Still, Marshall Lee is wistful. "I wish I could kill him for you."

"Marsh." They're lying side by side, two halves that fit. "It'll be okay."

"You know I'm still hoping this will turn out a dream?" He laughs uneasily and pillow talk takes a somber turn. "Maybe I should be grateful about time I spent with you but I'm not. We need more."

It's still dark outside his window. The house in the cave under the bridge always was a haven. He could almost believe time doesn't reach them here. Somewhere out in Ooo, Finn and Jake are getting closer to undoing what shouldn't be but just righteously _is_.

"Don't start saying those things," Marceline says.

"But I want you to know."

"But I'll cry."

So will he, but Marshall Lee looks into her eyes anyway. "I'm way in love with you. I'm scared to not have you. Like, Groddamn it hurts and it's almost not worth it but it's _you_."

"This isn't the end," Marceline tells him seriously like she'll bend reality to her will. He could look at her forever. Marceline strokes his bangs – he knows by now it's habit—and if there were ever such a thing as otp it's the two of them. He hates being humbled by _happenstance _and if it had a face he'd punch the hell out of it but right now he's worn out.

Why can't a girl and a guy just like each other?

"I love you more. Don't cry," Marceline insists but her hand on his face is gentle.

_They _are some kind of freak miracle, a series of improbable impossible events that happened anyway and turned into Marshall Lee and Marceline, together. Marshall Lee smiles crookedly. This isn't giving up, it's a statement.

"What else don't I know about you?"

They talk until her eyes just can't stay open anymore. This whole thing can't have taken place in twelve hours, it feels like months of total angst and desperate trying and he's never been more aware of how much she means to him.

"Marsh?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

If he asks her to be specific it could range anywhere from not pushing her raft back to sea to not crying and setting off a chain reaction. And if this whole affair turns out to not be a dream or a joke after all,

"I'll find you," Marshall Lee promises and Marceline smiles that smile that lights up her face and his soul and the whole universe in general.

"I'll find you first."

She lets go of Hambo to hold him with both hands.

**\/\/\/\/**

Marshall Lee wakes up. He's alone. It's that time again to roll out of bed and do chill-yet-totally-badass Marshall Lee stuff and instead his body planks on the floor. He lays there for a while feeling all kinds of strange feels.

"Ow," he says a little curiously because his chest hurts like a mother and it has to do with

He can't figure out what he's missing so badly.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

**A/N:** Insert _saudade_ definition. The end.

Jk. I forreal thought writing melodrama would be interesting but nah it was a feels-killing struggle. If you're into that tragic yet fitting ending stuff, this story can now go with the show's storyline since Marceline never left Ooo. Not sure about a sequel yet but I'll put up a more positive epilogue soon and that'll be the last chapter.

THANKS to everyone reading and for all the reviews (ayyy 101). Lemme know how this chapter was!

**Guest** – Shucks, I try.

**The other person** – The Gumball thing is whatever you think it is haha. I'll probs write a Gumball oneshot one of these days though.

And everyone that says they cried… sorry? No tears :[ Just joy.

* I ripped off _21 Jump Street_ lines. Good movie doe.


	25. Epilogue: Across The Universe

**Epilogue: Across The Universe**

"Gummy-boo can I have this?"

Gumball looks up from across his desk (paperwork all day errday for this guy). He raises an eyebrow. "You do know that's a wedding ring?"

Marshall Lee is sprawled over a high-backed chair. He likes how this plain band looks on his pinky finger. "It's 'bout to be my pimp ring, yo."

"Whatever." Gumball pushes his shoe off the desk. "Don't you have other things to do besides distract me? Which never works, by the way."

It's not that Marshall Lee doesn't have other things to do. It's just that nothing is of interest these days and he's just soo bored.

"What's with the ring anyway? You found your other half?" Not that Marshall Lee plans on giving it back or anything. "I won't judge if it's Hunter Prince, mm that's some fine man-meat—"

Gumball throws an inkstone and misses. "When I find _her_, I won't let you know."

"I'll see you in hell," Marshall Lee threatens because who would do that to their #1 bro? Then again wouldn't it be ironic if Pretty Pink Princeling had a quickie midnight wedding to some totally fly rocker babe.

Gumball's office is spacious, immaculate, windowed from ceiling to floor. Not so immaculate when Ice Queen suddenly crashes in through the windows and the spaciousness is covered by ice and debris.

"My papers!" Gumball bats snow flurries away.

"My pimp ring!" Marshall Lee exclaims because it rolled away during the commotion.

"My prince!" Ice Queen takes Gumball by the arm. On her neck is a black-and-white paper cutout of a clerical collar. "We are so ready to marry!"

Fionna and Cake have excellent response time; they barrel through the double doors in seconds yelling about sweet justice.

"You two!" Ice Queen says. "How are you always in the way!"

"Ice Queen you tweeted about this like ten minutes ago," Fionna rolls her eyes.

"Seriously, woman," Cake reads out from her phone. "_LOL got my clergy license, gonna go marry my dream hunk now~ #BubbaGumball #endlesslove_"

"You follow Ice Queen?" Marshall Lee looks up for a moment because he's on the floor searching for _my preciousss_.

"She follows back."

"I really do."

"Unhand me!" Gumball exclaims, reminding them that he's still on the verge of getting kidnapped and maybe even felt up.

"Right," Fionna pulls out her sword. "I'll mess you up, Ice Queen!"

Ice Queen rolls her eyes. "No you can't. I'm a woman of Grod now."

Cake shakes her head. "First of all… you can't be your own wedding cleric."

"Yeah-huh!"

"And B, clergy can't marry."

"Yeah-huh!" Ice Queen repeats. Then her face falls. "But the internet ordained me… only $19.95 no refunds…" She stomps. "Lump it, I just wanna get married!"

Gumball pales. "Not like this."

"Shh. No tears," Ice Queen caresses his cheek with an expression that can only be rapeface and she's about to fly off to the sunset with the prince in tow but Fionna won't have none of that.

"ROAR," the adventuress leaps forth, brandishing her sword.

"ROAR INFINITY," Ice Queen starts blasting magic bolts everywhere and it's a shitshow of blades swinging and ice shattering all over in Gumball's precious study—

_Crack_.

Marshall Lee is quick enough to dodge the chandelier – actually just that whole chunk of ceiling in general—that falls right into the spot he used to be. Dust billows and it's rubble on rubble in this joint. Fionna and Ice Queen are startled enough for a ceasefire. Then the smoke clears.

"Look at this mess!" Fionna shouts.

"Stop getting in the way!" Ice Queen shouts back. Her blue face is flushed and Marshall Lee finds that unusual. "Let me be happy you jerk!"

Marshall Lee feels that rare twinge of guilt. She's no longer everything to him but even if Ice Queen is a sad, sorry shell of what used to be _Simone_, Marshall Lee will never let her get her ass kicked in front of him. He channels nonviolence advocacy before the kicks and the bolts fly again.

"Hold up!" Marshall Lee takes Ice Queen by the elbow and leads her aside. She's surprised; her hands cease glowing. "So you know you can't make a guy marry you, right?"

Ice Queen fumes. "What's a gal gotta do to be happy around here!"

If he lets her brood she'll keep up her own rant.

"Marshall I got heart problems," she suddenly grabs his shoulders. "Every day, man, I got this heartache and it's beggin' for some lovin'."

Poor broad, she has preteen-girl struggles.

"Stealing is wrong," he reminds her thought it's not like she'll remember. "Even people."

"_You_ wouldn't understand, Mister Gets-Around!" Ice Queen snaps. "I'm always pining soo much and I don't even know what for, it makes me _nuts_. If I can just stea— marry my prince I'll have… I'll have…"

"Benny."

"Who?"

Marshall Lee can sympathize with her, in a way. There's something incomplete about life as he knows it and he's never really sure why.

"You just can't catch a break, can you?" he tells Ice Queen.

"Tell me about it."

On a sad note, she'll never realize she deserves more than this decrepit state.

"You're alright, Simone."

"Do _you_ wanna marry me?" Ice Queen asks hopefully and Marshall Lee snorts. "Eh. Worth a shot."

"Hey so are we fighting or what?" Fionna calls out.

"We'll call it a draw!" Ice Queen declares though Cake mutters about _she totes beat yo ass._

They turn to leave but then Gumball shouts with commanding passion. It's almost sexy.

"Stop!"

Everyone turns around, eyebrows raised, surprised and expectant.

Gumball says "Clean my office."

Marshall Lee sticks around just long enough to find the ring.

**\/\/\/\/**

* * *

Marshall Lee gets so insufferably bored sometimes.

He was into backpacking like ten years ago; maybe he'll take that up again. He could go find himself or the meaning of life or something like that. Anything to be amused. Marshall Lee packs and never leaves. Why is he on his man-period lately anyway – one day he's chill and the next day nothing matters, all the music he makes is heavy on feels.

Oh Grod could he be having… an existentialist crisis?

He congratulates himself with_ Cool. I'm deep._

Fionna and Cake barge into his living room one day. Damn heroines.

"Boy get off that couch," Cake orders.

"We're worried about you Marshall Lee," Fionna says. "Nobody's seen you in like a month!"

"I feel sicky," he doesn't budge.

"Adventure will fix you!"

"Psh." Marshall Lee beckons Fionna closer. "You know what will?"

"What?" says the fourteen-year-old still wearing a rabbit hat and a skirt too short for her newfound junk in the trunk. Who knows, he might just find that attractive one of these days.

Cake covers his mouth before he can say something perverse.

"Shame on yo sedentary lifestyle, man," she chastises.

"Go away," Marshall Lee digs himself into the cushions.

"Dimension Witch says she found a new dimension," Fionna whispers as if whispering makes things sound more appealing. "We're gonna go check it out."

"Cool. Bye."

"Come with us."

"_Bye_."

"And after that we're gonna find the Enchiridion again," Cake is whispering now too.

"And Magic Man's been giving out pee drinks so we'll go catch him too."

"And after that who knows!"

"Iiiit's adventure time!"

The heroines bump fists over Marshall Lee's head and he stretches lazily on the couch. No he doesn't feel like trekking across random dimensions. "Well it's my naptime and just so you know I sleep in the nude. Sooo…"

That's all Fionna and Cake need to hear to go out the door talking about too much pastiness in one room and how they'll go blind and they'll come back when he's not such a bum.

"You gotta do you," Marshall Lee tells Schwabl as he passes by (there was a time when he was gonna call the dog _Wienerschnitzel_). Marshall Lee takes up his bass; music is the only thing he'll never tire of, even if the friends and the babes and the materials come and go.

But at some point Marshall Lee finds himself picking up the phone and dialing Cake. His pimp ring could be good for slapping around some bad guys like a sir. It's strange for him to be attached to some random piece of jewelry but wouldn't it be cool if he found another one like it. He even wears it on his ring finger sometimes. For bachelor laughs.

"Yo Cake. So which quest are you on right now?"

It's Adventure Time.

**\/\/\/\/**

**End.**

* * *

**A/N:** Fionna & Cake are going on inter-dimensional quests. So the implication is, Marshall Lee will find Marceline at some point. Or maybe she'll find him first. Or if you prefer the ending at last chapter that's cool too.

SHOUTOUT RAGE TO everyone who's been reading and: **MarcyLovesMarshy**, **Gabriella Cole**, **MariaLuvsYew**, **Emdillyicious**, **Kat**, **Roar, Lady Marmalade, cody murphy **you make me go lmfao**, ajachowder, BarrenTeeth, idkdontask, Kyle, SeoulXTusta, Anna, Kenny, Trixi1056, fgjhk, monkey, Lauraeffingiero, Kelly, ShadowHunted, Zerolife117, Salve SiS, Maria, Lunaxis, FreeHugz767**, and radical Guests/Anons. Thanks for the love yo. Makes me glad I tried to write a fic.

Sequel (_Absolutely_) is out, you should check that out!_  
_

ps: Another _thanks_ for reviews/compliments last chapter. My nerd ego is like 50x bigger now jk I'm just happy for the feedback. Errbody have a good summer :]


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